Numb: Redux
by Joker is Poker with a J
Summary: RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Numb: Redux**

 **Summary: RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

 _December, 1899_

Anesthetized, apathetic, asleep, benumbed, brutal, callous, cantankerous, churlish, cold, cold fish, cold-blooded, cold-hearted, cool cat, crotchety, cruel, deadened, exacting, feelingless, hard, hardened, heartless, icy, inanimate, inhuman, insensate, insensible, insensitive, iron-hearted, merciless, obdurate, pitiless, ruthless, sensationless, senseless, severe, stony, surly, thick-skinned, tough, unamiable, uncaring, uncompassionate, uncordial, unemotional, unkind, unsympathetic.

All the words above were synonyms to one word, unfeeling. Numb. That is exactly the type of person I am.

There are few words to explain my 'condition', as my mother used to call it before she died. My father never called it anything because he went to jail before my mother even gave birth to me. I just called it being Numb. Nothing more, nothing less than those four letters. I didn't really care to explain any more or less of it, either, to be quite honest. The inability to feel physical sensations left my range of emotion rather lacking.

I was born by the name of Eden Sullivan. When I was four, my mother died and I was sent to an orphanage with my brother, who eventually ran away from it-leaving me to fend for myself. Without a family, it was easier to be disconnected from others. Having no one who cared about me made it easier not to care about anyone in return, especially given my numbness.

I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure how I made it through my childhood alive. I couldn't feel hunger, so I had to force myself to remember to eat. I only knew I skipped too many meals when my body would begin to slow down, when my mind got foggy, and quite a few times I had feinted from the lack of sustenance. Always, some kind stranger would find me, get food into me, and for that I guess I felt some sort of gratitude. I think it was those moments of giving that let me keep some of my humanity. While I was unable to tell if I was taking care of myself, others would comment, "You're looking thin, have you eaten?" To which I would shrug and promptly find food to shove into my mouth.

It was as if I did not have a survival instinct. No pain or hunger to tell my brain that something was wrong. I felt no comfort or discomfort, no pleasure. I would think it odd if I had ever known anything different. But, I did not. Sometimes it felt like I was only existing as a ghost, seeing everything but unable to connect.

It didn't help, either, that while my sense of touch was compromised, my other senses were not. Much like a blind person having heightened senses while being unable to see, it did feel as though my body were trying to compensate because I could hear, smell, see, and taste in incredible detail and distances. This was both a blessing and a curse because the constant assault to these other senses only seemed to alienate me more from the people around me. After I ran away from the orphanage, I sought out any quiet places that allowed me a reprieve from New York's bustling energy. Much of my childhood and early teens were spent in places such as churches, cemeteries, and my personal favorite, the Astor Library. Although the hours were limited at the library, it offered me a safe area where I managed to teach myself to read with help from any of the women who were working.

All that aside, I probably could have escaped to the country where the noise of the city didn't overwhelm me, but although I stepped foot in the train stations a few times, I could not convince myself to leave. There was something about this fast world, the energy that I couldn't feel but that I knew was there-like the cloudy days where you can't see the sun but it's still _so_ bright-that kept me enthralled and in the city.

Somehow I made it to sixteen years old, without the guidance of a family and by the kindness of strangers. Sighing, I leaned back on my hands as I gazed at the East River, the sun slowly descending behind me, casting shadows along the docks. My hair blew back, but I could not feel the touch of the wind or the coldness of December that so many others consistently complained about. I did, however, keep myself bundled up. I had lost a toe when I was younger to frost bite and since I knew the effects of extreme hot and colds from my research at the library, I had to take care of this shell the best that I could without the nerve signals everyone else had the privilege of.

It was exhausting, really, trying to remember to take care of each limb and appendage on your body without the warnings. Normal people were so very lucky, I silently mused. They didn't even know it.

To the left of me, a couple docks down, a whistle split the air, piercing my ears to the point of pain-the only pain I could feel was through my other senses. It was incredibly odd to understand pain in some aspects but not in others. I could not tell you the amount of books on science I had poured over to find one that mentioned the loss of feeling. It was common enough to find articles and journals on the deaf, blind, and mute. But, no one had ever even mentioned what I had.

The closest I had come was an interesting experiment not of touch, but of language. In the 13th century the Holy Emperor Frederick II had raised infants without human interaction-touch, talking, and suckling-in order to ascertain if there were a true language.

None of the children survived. Without human touch, every single one of them died. I found this incredible. If I could not feel, then why was it that I had survived infancy? My mother had touched me and suckled me, had loved me as much as she was capable while being confused as to why I never cried when I was hungry or when I banged my head on the bed post in our first apartment or a hundred other times I never reacted to something the right way. It made me wonder if I could feel, if her love had gotten me through infancy but that my brain did not understand the signals of touch and therefore, did not process them correctly.

A figure jumping down from a pile of crates distracted me from my internal questioning. Through the waning light of day, I could almost perfectly make him out as he tapped his cane and stood waiting as a smaller boy came running down the dock they were on and stopping just a foot or so away. My ears twitched as I picked up the words between the two who were, judging from their cabby hats and ragged clothes, newsboys.

"Jack's on his way with the Walkin' Mouth. They'se half way across da Brooklyn Bridge."

"What's buggin' him?" The one with the cane asked, his eyes scanning the area, and I laid back on the docks to hide in the shadows. I watched his eyes scan over the area I was at and almost held my breath, but they continued on as if they saw nothing.

"Not shoah. Some of the Manhattaner's tawkin' like he's gotta sistah. That he's lookin' foah her. But, no one's evah hoid of Jack Kelly havin' a sistah."

At the name, I almost sat up, but even if I couldn't physically feel, I did have a gut instinct and it was screaming at me to remain hidden. So, I listened as I always do when it came to instinct. It was the closest I came to feeling and I did not take that for granted.

I watched the boy with the cane and I knew who this was but, oh god, why couldn't I remember his name? He was the leader, his name utterly ridiculous and not at all intimidating and yet, often spoken in an almost reverent, hushed tone. Damn. Spark? Speck? I knew it was an 'S'-He spoke, his voice distracting me with its deepness, "Jacky-boy doesn't tawk about her with many people." The way he said those words made it clear this news came as no surprise. "I'll meet him at the lodgin' house, go let Flit know."

"Yessir." The boy replied as he immediately took off to give Cane-boy's orders.

A few minutes passed as Cane-boy stood there, silently gazing off into nothing before heading down the docks, back towards the city and away from me. I listened to his footsteps until they were gone before sitting back up.

Jack Fucking Kelly was looking for me.

I waited by the East River for another ten minutes, that one sentence reiterating itself in my mind before I stood up to head home. As I stepped off the docks, my boots hitting dry land for the first time since that morning, I pulled up short as I caught sight of the figure waiting there.

He was leaning against the closest street lamp, his hands in his coat pocket, his cane leaning beside him, easily within reach of any sudden attack. I glanced down to see his shadow thrown across the cobblestone, a part of me curious in spite of myself. People did not usually interest me. Books on science were interesting. History was fascinating. Events that shaped who we had become in the last few hundred years were thought-provoking or downright wrong but still a better read than-than _discussing_ things with people alive right now.

The small bit of human in me, though-the one that I rarely listened to-the one that yearned to feel, who desired a connection to someone, _anyone_ , for once overpowered all the logic in my brain and managed to take swift control at the opportunity to participate in human interaction.

Cane-boy ( _damn_ what was his name?!) pulled his hat off and ran a hand through his hair as he brought his eyes around to meet mine, "What's a doll like you doin' wearin' trousers and hangin' around the docks?" He asked, causing that bit of human in me to shrink away as my pride bristled at anyone making assumptions and questioning what I did.

The number of years I had no one to answer to far outweighed those spent with my family. I did not like that he expected a reason, as if I owed him that. I made that clear as I scoffed and turned away to leave.

"Ya want me ta tell Jack where ya are?"

I halted.

Two, three, four heartbeats passed between us before I slowly spun on the heel of my boot to once again face him. My breath caught as I found he'd taken a few steps closer to me, but the distance between us was still a good foot or so. However, his nearness wasn't what gave me pause. It was simply him, the light of the flickering oil lamp above us casting both light and shadows upon his features in a way that looked as if they were dancing upon his face. His hair fell onto his forehead and looked soft, the color of brass, bringing to mind the only comparable thing-the paintings of angels I'd seen on the ceilings of the churches I'd been in. Not to mention the blue of those eyes. Absolutely striking. Like a bolt of lightning. Of all things in nature I found fascinating, lightning was by far my favorite. I had too often thought of what would happen if I walked outside during a storm and let a strike find me. Would it jolt awake the nerves of my body, bring me to life in a way I had never been before?

"I've no idea what you're talking about." I said, even as I knew my silence had stretched on too long to possibly be a believable denial.

He flicked back the hair on his forehead. "Shoah ya do. Jack's lookin' foah ya. Ya want me ta tell him ya here in Brooklyn, or send him off on a fool's errand?"

Watching my every move, his face blank and emotionless, he stood waiting for my answer, "Either way, what's in it for you?" I finally asked, registering the flit of surprise he showed at my question. Or perhaps it was because I didn't deny it any further. It was hard to tell, though, but his ability to control his emotions so tightly peaked my interest even more.

The smallest smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth, "I like collectin'...shall we say, debts."

I immediately imagined him with a paper bound journal similar to a bookies' who kept record of bets and I could only guess at what kind of favor this odd newsboy would call in. "And if I ask you to do neither? If I do not care what you tell Jack? You cannot possibly in-debt me to you if I do not care of the outcome of this little event."

That smirk appeared again as he slipped his hat back on his head, "That's true." He grabbed his cane and turned to leave but stopped as he heard my voice.

"Wait." He didn't turn, only waited as I had commanded, "Don't tell him I'm here." It was a snap decision, I hadn't really given myself time to weigh my options or think about what I was getting myself into, I only knew I wasn't ready to see my brother. Not yet.

He nodded before he half turned back to meet my gaze, "Deal."

I watched him walk away, heading towards the Newsboy Lodging House where he would meet up with my brother. The one I hadn't talked to since I was four years old. The one I hadn't seen since the summer when his face had been plastered on the front page of the Sun Newspaper, declaring him leader of the strike and _not_ Francis Sullivan but rather a stranger to me named Jack Kelly.

Sighing again, I turned to head home before thinking better of it. It was always a good idea to make sure others followed through on their side of the bargain. Instead of heading to my apartment in Williamsburg, I changed directions and followed Cane-boy.

 **A/N: So, I'm re-writing Numb because I wrote the original when I was sixteen, I think? And my writing has gotten a LOT better in ten years and I thought it was time to come back and improve it. I'm leaving the old one up in case you want to take a look at that versus this one but I think there will be a lot of major differences. I want to explore Eden's condition a bit more as well as write a few chapters from an outside perspective. Also, I'm not sure I'll keep Nine, because let's face it he didn't do anything for the original plot, and perhaps the house she gets kicked out of because that whole thing didn't really make too much sense. Anywho, review and tell me if you like this first chapter!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**

 **Disclaimer: Everything that is familiar to you belongs to either Disney or me from the previous version of this work lol.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

Spot Conlon had known all along, of course, that she was sitting there on the docks. He knew what boat she worked on, a small fishing boat called _Daybreak_ with a man named Sue, and how long she'd been in Brooklyn, three years. He knew she lived in an apartment on Morgan Avenue and that she lived alone. It was his nature to know everything he could about anything that made him curious.

Since the night he and Jack had gotten drunk at a newsie party when they were eleven years old and Jack had admitted to him, and him alone, of the sister he'd abandoned, the one he had been too scared to take care of because she couldn't feel, Spot Conlon had made a vow to find her, to learn everything he could of the curiosity that was Eden Sullivan. And find her he did. It had only taken a few weeks and as a bird, Spot had all the time in the world to scour the city for her.

At the time, she'd been living in Lower-Manhattan, sleeping in alleys, or churches. Anywhere nearby the Astor Library that she spent every day at for nearly three years. Then, one day he went looking for her and she was gone.

It took another few weeks for him to find her, but by that time he was in training to take over Brooklyn so his freedom had become limited and truthfully he didn't think she was in Brooklyn. He had assumed she'd have gone elsewhere, hadn't been expecting her to be right under his nose, so he was astonished when, after a day spent on the docks and East River, he looked over at a small fishing boat pulling in and Eden Sullivan stepping off.

At thirteen, she could have passed for a young boy because of what she was wearing; pants, a shirt, and suspenders. Her hair was tucked up under a hat and he almost wouldn't have recognized her right away except he caught sight of her in profile. That's how he knew she was Jack's sister. From the side, she was almost the spitting image of Jack Kelly. Eden Sullivan glanced over at him, but her eyes passed right through him as she walked down the docks before getting lost in the evening crowd.

Ever since then, Spot Conlon, Leader of the Brooklyn Newsies, had always kept one birdie on Jack's sister. None of the birds questioned him-they didn't dare. And they didn't know who the girl was. They were just supposed to report her activity, tell him if she did anything that was not her usual routine.

For three years he kept tabs on her. He could almost wonder if it was an obsession, but he knew it was mostly curiosity. Not like his obsession with debts. He liked knowing he could get someone to do anything because they owed him. He also liked information, any information his birds came to him with was important, no matter how small. One little detail could help land him another name in his book.

Tonight's opportunity had come up and went off without a hitch.

He smirked as he walked away from the docks, his plan had been put together quickly with Jay's report but it had gone off smoothly. Well, he did underestimate Eden's intelligence. He shouldn't have, he knew how many hours she had spent in that library. But, he had been a little nervous. He had only ever watched her from afar, had never gotten the chance to see her truly up close like this evening.

His birds were right; she did walk funny. Of course, according to Jack, she couldn't feel. Spot had thought, at first, that was some sort of riddle. But, the more he'd watched her, the more he grew to understand.

Eden Sullivan didn't feel. She walked funny because she couldn't feel her foot hitting the solid ground. Every step she took, she listened for. He would think that meant she'd be a slow walker, but he guessed a lifetime of walking the city streets instead made her quicker. She walked as if expecting any footfall to be a trap, so each foot only stayed on the ground for a split second before the other was going forward. It often looked like she was darting through the crowd like a hummingbird. That's exactly what the birds had taken to calling her.

He had keenly listened for those quick footsteps as she came down the docks and then she was there in front of him, pulling up short as she found him waiting for her. In three years of working on the little fishing boat, her skin had tanned. Even now, in the depths of winter, her skin was darker than most ladies. Her long, dark brown hair was down, as was usual in the winter. In the summer, she almost always had it up, tucked beneath a cabby hat. She wasn't as tall as her brother, but her eyes were level with his own and his breath caught for a second. He had seen her from too far away and had always assumed she had brown eyes to match Jack's. She did not. They were a mesmerizing green, the inner rim a much darker shade, akin to emerald. The edges light like sage.

"What's a doll like you doin' wearin' trousers and hangin' around the docks?" He found himself asking, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair. He already knew, of course, but he didn't like others to know how much.

He wanted to smirk as she bristled at his inquiry and scoffed. She turned, and he knew he couldn't let her get away just yet. This was his moment, "Ya want me ta tell Jack where ya are?"

She froze, every muscle tensing. It was a wonder she couldn't feel that, it was so plain to see it. He took a few steps closer, waiting for her to answer him. When she did turn, he watched those green eyes flicker across his face, taking him in all at once. He wondered what she saw? The great Spot Conlon? Some newsboy? Maybe she hadn't heard the conversation.

But, he knew she had. Had known for a long time her hearing was good. Almost too good, really. It had been unnerving, watching her listen to things and not knowing what it was. She had stopped once in an alley in Manhattan two years ago and had listened intently to nothing he could hear for a long time before he heard the gun shot a few blocks over and a guy come running out of a bank. Had known she had heard the entire robbery from the look on her face as she listened to the bank teller die. He only knew that because it was in the paper the next day, an exclusive interview with one of the coworkers who had heard his last dying words.

"I've no idea what you're talking about." He hadn't expected her voice to be as deep as it was. Sultry. He discovered he wanted to hear her talk more.

Flicking his hair out of his eyes, he replied easily, "Shoah ya do. Jack's lookin' foah ya. Ya want me ta tell him ya here in Brooklyn, or send him off on a fool's errand?" Spot watched her intently, taking in the way she stood there, arms limp at her side, as still as a glass of water. She didn't shift nervously, or touch her face, or brush hair away like a normal person. None of that comforted her the way it did others.

She only steadily watched him as a calculating gleam appeared in her eyes and she asked, "Either way, what's in it for you?"

At the time, he'd been surprised, but after some reflection he knew he shouldn't have been. Jack had told him that long, drunk night ago when they were eleven that Eden had a hard time dealing with emotions. She was all logic. So uncommon for a woman.

"I like collectin'…shall we say, debts." He hadn't meant to admit that. Didn't often. When Jack had come to him about the strike, he waited to see if they were serious and when they were, Brooklyn rescued them. But, it was clearly understood that Manhattan owed him a huge debt. One he hadn't collected on, yet.

"And if I ask you to do neither? If I do not care what you tell Jack? You cannot possibly in-debt me to you if I do not care of the outcome of this little event." Her words were biting, defensive. He knew he had her. He couldn't keep the smirk from lifting the corner of his mouth as he put his hat back on.

"That's true." He told her, turning around and grabbing his cane where it leaned against the light post.

"Wait."

He savored that one word. Victory. Spot Conlon was about to have both Jack and his sister in his ledger of debts, the small, bound journal tucked under a floorboard in his bedroom would have one more name by the end of the night.

"Don't tell him I'm here." _Eden Sullivan_ had just signed her name in his book.

He nodded and half turned to meet her green eyes, "Deal." He said, catching the feral look in her green eyes and making a mental note to remember it. This one was wild. He'd have to keep a closer eye on her. Wouldn't want her skipping out of town before he came to collect.

Now, as he came upon the Lodging House, he caught sight of Jack Kelly's profile and he almost paused, his mind on her. But, then Jack was turning his head, already catching sight of the Brooklyn Leader, and taking long, loping strides to meet him halfway, "Spot."

"Jacky-boy." Spot replied, as they spit shook. "What brings ya ta Brooklyn at sucha late houah?"

David had trailed behind Jack and Spot nodded his head at the kid, but did not put his hand out. The Walkin' Mouth nodded back, but didn't try to offer his hand. They had an understanding that they were both Jack's friend, but not friends.

Looking nervous, Jack adjusted his cowboy hat and lowered his voice so the newsies sitting on the stoop outside the Lodging House couldn't hear, "Spot, I ain't nevah told no one but I got a sistah."

The only reason this surprised Spot was because he hadn't known Jack had been so drunk that night he couldn't remember telling Spot about his sister. Spot didn't let his surprise register, only lifted one eyebrow, "Was I suppose ta babysit her tahnight, Jack?"

Jack rolled his eyes, "No. I haven't seen her in a long time and then, yestahday, I saw someone who looked just like her. I didn't think she'd still be in the city."

"Where would she go?" Spot asked.

Shrugging, Jack looked down the street, "I don't know. Anywhere but here. She used ta cry a lot when we were kids. About da noises and da smells. Didn't think she'd stick around the city."

"Why haven't ya seen her in a while?" Spot inquired, for some reason wanting to hear Jack say the words out loud.

The cowboy turned a heated glare on him, "That's none of ya business, Conlon."

Tsking, Spot tapped his cane, "Sounds like I should know more before…ya came here for my help, didn't ya, Jacky-boy? Don't I deserve ta know why ya kept her a secret? Same as ya name?"

Irritated, and clearly feeling cornered, Jack scowled as he spat out, "'Cause I didn't know where she was, awright? I left her, is that what you wanna hear? I abandoned my four-year-old sister when I was five. Happy?"

David was staring at Jack with a look of horror, clearly imagining what would have happened to Les had he abandoned him on the streets at the age of four. "Jack…" David said, the disappointment obvious.

Jack glared, "I'm not like you, David. We didn't have anyone; how could I be responsible foah her? I was scared, awright?"

Spot leaned back on his heels, hands resting atop his cane as he looked at Jack feeling the same way he did when he was eleven; disgusted. Spot's only family was the Brooklyn Newsies, could only vaguely remember a face that might have been his mother, but she had been taken by cholera when he was only a handful of years old. His old man had split early on-he never knew exactly when-so most of his early memories were of the orphanage. He would have never abandoned family, "I'm not happy at all, Jack." He finally said.

"I was young," Jack was clearly frustrated by their judgement, but Spot thought it did him good to sweat a bit about his actions, "and stupid and I could barely take care of myself let alone a little sister who couldn't-" He cut himself off and moved to pace between the building to the left of them and the street. "It don't mattah. I lost track of her somewhere and I thought she had gotten out of here. But, then yestahday, I think I saw her…" He trailed off, his excuses done as he met the Brooklyn leader's gaze, "So, Spot, I came here hopin' you can put ya little boidies out there and find her."

"And if I find her?"

Jack sighed, "I want to see if she needs me. Get ta know her. Be the bruddah I never was."

The words seemed genuine, but Spot had cut Eden a deal and he wasn't about to go back on it. He would omit that she was in Brooklyn, but he'd tell Jack he'd put his birds out. Keep things simple and maybe he'd pay Eden a visit. Find out why she didn't want to see her brother.

Nodding, he spit into his palm and held it out, "I'll keep a bird out lookin' for her." He said, as Jack mirrored him and they shook. Spot stopped him from pulling his hand away, "But, ya owe me, Jack."

"Yeah, yeah, add it to my tab." Jack Kelly muttered, pulling his hand away and once again adjusting his cowboy hat. A habit he had that his sister never would, Spot thought, remembering how she had stood steady through their entire conversation. Jack was always moving, always pacing or fidgeting. Eden, however, was the exact opposite. Still and steady. Spot liked steady.

The two Manhattan boys said nothing else, just turned and left. Spot watched them until they were out of sight, becoming increasingly aware of a pair of eyes on him.

He listened as Hoot came jogging up behind him and leaned down as the younger boy whispered in his ear, "Hummingbird was just a block back, listening." and he nodded. Hoot took off once again, in a different direction before he would circle back and follow her home.

Spot smirked. She was smart, following him. Making sure he held up his end of the bargain. He wondered if she had already started home, or if she was still standing there, listening. Just in case, he found himself mumbling, "A deal's a deal, doll."

 **A/N: Boom. Updated 2 stories today! I'm going away this weekend so I wanted to update as much as I could before then. Let me know what you think of this chapter in a review! Thank you to Pixielou for reviewing!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**

 ***insert disclaimer***


	3. Chapter 3

**Numb**

 **Summary: RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

"Didn't expect you to cash in so quick." I quipped, ignoring his hand as I pulled myself up out of _Daybreak_ , the fishing boat I worked on, and onto the dock. "See you tomorrow, old man." I tossed back to Sue, who had no trouble giving me the finger at my endearment.

Spot Conlon had been waiting for me. I had seen him waiting on the dock a good twenty minutes before Sue had called it a day and pulled the boat in. I had ignored the nervous feeling in my gut as we got ever closer to the reigning Newsboy King of Brooklyn but I couldn't exactly ignore him.

 _"A deal's a deal, doll."_ Those whispered words from last night had strummed my hearing in a way that made me wonder, vaguely, if this was what pleasure felt like. If it was, I was definitely missing out on more than I had originally thought.

I pushed thoughts of last night away as he smirked at me, "Nah, I ain't collectin', yet."

"So, what is it you want?" I asked, sliding the coat I had taken off while working back on. I looked down to button it up, and waited to hear him say anything. When I finished and he still hadn't said a thing, I blew out a breath and met his gaze. "Well?"

He was simply watching me, his blue eyes curious as we stared each other down. Finally, he opened his mouth, "I was just wonderin' if ya wanted ta get a bite ta eat?"

"I smell like fish." I told him, surprise making my brain hard to function and letting that comment slip out before I could think of anything else to say.

Spot shrugged, "I don't mind. Boys at da lodgin' house smell much worse." He tapped his cane lightly and added, as an afterthought, "But, if you want to stop and change…"

It didn't actually matter to me. Being around the scent for three years had built a tolerance for it in my nose. But, I thought I should at least change so he wouldn't have to smell me the entire time. "I live a few blocks over." I told him, starting down the docks, figuring he'd follow me.

He easily kept pace beside me as we walked in a weird silence. I wasn't sure where to begin talking. I didn't know this man, didn't have any idea why he was suddenly so interested in me. Not to mention I wasn't good at talking to people. Didn't have much experience, to be honest. I really only talked to Sue, and his replies were mostly grunts. I wasn't sure if he couldn't talk or just didn't want to. It was hard to tell with that one.

My eyes flickered over to his face a few times, trying to reconcile the legend beside me with what I'd heard on the streets the last few years. After eavesdropping the night before, and Jack's greeting prompting my memory to fill in the 'S' name for him-Spot Fuckin' Conlon-I wondered how I could forget something that would have sounded ridiculous had it been anyone else's name but his. How did it fit him so well? I knew most newsies had nicknames, but it was hard imagining how the name Spot had stuck to someone as intimidating as him.

"So, Jack saw ya da day befoah yestahday. He came to me lookin' foah help findin' ya." He finally said, breaking the silence. I nodded, not surprised because I had heard this all last night and Spot glanced over at me, seeming to register this. The corner of his mouth pulled up in the slightest, as if I had confirmed something.

"I went to the New York Public Library to get some books." I told him, ignoring the slight smirk and wondering if I'd given something away. But, I wasn't one to lie or keep secrets. I think you had to care to do those things.

He cast a long look at me from the corner of his eyes and I wondered what was going through his mind. "Why don't ya want him ta know you're here?"

I had been thinking about that all night, hadn't slept very much because of it and because of the person next to me as we ascended the stairs to my second floor apartment. What was it about him? He came out of nowhere and was suddenly just here. I pulled out my key and unlocked my door before I answered him, pausing before opening it so I could find the right way to explain my logic, "It's not that I don't want him to know. I just don't have anything to say to him, I don't feel the need to reconnect. We're strangers. I don't know him. He doesn't know me. Why does he want to try being a brother now?" I didn't mean to let that last, almost frustrated, question slip, but I did. It had nagged me all night.

Opening the door to keep from looking at Spot's face, I tossed my key on the kitchen counter as he stepped in and looked around. "Nice place." He murmured.

"Thanks. Cost me an arm and a leg each month. The slumlord doesn't like that I'm a young, unmarried woman living alone." I muttered back, rooting through my dresser for one of the few dresses I owned. Pulling one out, I held it up and smoothed the wrinkles a bit before turning to see Spot looking at the books piled beside my mattress in the corner of the studio apartment.

"He ain't takin' advantage of you, is he?" Spot asked, not noticing, yet, that I was watching him read through the titles.

His eyebrows were drawn down, a contemplative look on his handsome face. Did I just think him handsome? His features were symmetrical, the very definition of classically handsome, and therefore pleasing to the eye. Very pleasing. Sighing, I tried to ignore his pleasing face and answer his question, "Besides the cost, no. I think I make most people uncomfortable." I suppose people did not generally reveal such things about themselves, usually due to embarrassment, but I really didn't have any shame, and it was strangely refreshing to have someone to bounce my thoughts off of.

At that thought, I started to grow a tad concerned that maybe I was being too open. Maybe I should be more restrictive with my thoughts...He suddenly stood up and looked at me, causing my thoughts to scatter as I took in his own look of concern alongside that perpetual curiosity. I wanted to be annoyed with that curiosity that seemed to always be present behind his eyes; I was not some circus freak, some question to be answered. I did not want people poking around at me, that much I knew. I had had a brief stint in an orphanage when I was first abandoned and they had talked of sending me to an Asylum in the Bronx. They had figured out early on that something wasn't quite right with me, but I had heard stories of what they did to people there, had even walked passed one to hear anything that would tell me what it would be like there.

I still had nightmares of the screams of terror. The shadowed halls, the people who stared off sightlessly and broken. I had run away from that orphanage the second I could and I have lived on the streets since. I had grown up fast and had long ago learned that the system was broken.

"You don't make me uncomfortable." His voice had gotten a tad gruff, but he watched me as he said those words.

I had almost lashed out, almost told him to fuck off, I wasn't some puzzle to be figured out. But, those words stopped me. For some reason, I believed them and for once, I didn't feel uncomfortable with someone else's company, either. "Turn around." I said, instead.

Confusion furrowed his brows, but he did as he was told and I quickly peeled off my fish reeked clothes. I grabbed a washcloth from the small bucket I had in the corner I was in and tried to get as much smell off my skin as I could before I pulled my dress on. It was simple sage green color, unadorned, and I didn't really notice much else about it. It didn't feel any different to me than any other clothing because, well, again I couldn't feel them. The only difference came when I was working and I had noticed how the dress slowed me down as opposed to the freedom trousers gave me, which is why I wore them to work. I wasn't really too concerned about my reputation, anyway.

Besides, it wasn't like I had a line of suitors outside my door.

"Alright, I'm dressed," I told Spot, picking my coat up off the floor where I had tossed it. Tugging on my boots, I grabbed my key and locked the door behind us as he silently followed me out.

"Ya like reading science?" He asked, once we hit the streets. I followed a step behind him because it seemed he had a place in mind to eat and I wasn't too sure where exactly that was.

"I like reading pretty much anything." I replied.

"What's ya favorite book?"

I watched and listened as he tapped his cane in between steps. "The Picture of Dorian Gray." I told him, wondering if he had heard of it.

Spot's eyebrows furrowed, "What's it about?" He stopped in front of a tiny restaurant, seemingly squashed between two tall apartment buildings, and pulled open the front door, waiting for me to enter first.

Taken aback by his gentlemanly behavior, I entered and waited until we were seated by a nice, older woman before answering him, "It's a story of a narcissistic young man who wishes to keep his beauty and so his painting ages while he does not."

Spot was listening as he read the menu, but looked up as I finished my brief, and frankly very shallow, synopsis of a book that was about much more than I really felt like getting into. "That's…interesting. Why is it ya favorite?"

I glanced down to make sure my shoulder lifted in a shrug. Sometimes, I had to make sure I was making little body language movements in order to not appear too odd, but I didn't often hang around others enough to do this regularly. Sue didn't really care if I moved like a normal person. Who knew if he even noticed? "Not sure, exactly. It sort of leads a theme of living a double life and I guess I find that a bit relatable." I had never discussed that with anyone. It was like I had unconsciously thought that and only realized it was true when the words slipped from my mouth. Maybe not so much as two lives as being this whole thing broken into two separate pieces. One where I was numb, this unconnected ghost girl who was the epitome of loneliness. The second was just a bundle of raw emotions I did not understand or know what to do with. It was such a bizarre part of me that I shoved it in a box and put chains around it where it could not get out. Much like Dorian hides his painting, unwilling to look closely at it.

His eyes were boring into mine and I finally met his as he nodded gently and said, "Yeah. I get that. I feel like that sometimes, too. What with bein' the leadah an all."

I nodded as understanding blossomed slowly between us and I suddenly realized that in this moment, I was making my first real connection to another human being since I was four years old.

How…odd.

Terrifying.

I suddenly had a premonition as our food arrived and we fell into silence as we ate. I envisioned that he had suddenly come to the dark room I held those emotions in, key in hand, and began to slowly unlock each chain around my box.

* * *

He walked her home after dinner and realized that for the first time in a long time, he'd enjoyed another person's company. Since the strike, he'd become increasingly aware of how idolized he was within his own borough, as well as the others. To the point where he felt like he couldn't even wipe his own ass around the boys. As if them even catching a glimpse of him doing something so human would lower him in their eyes. He almost hated how they viewed him as more than what he was, but hadn't worked this hard to lose their respect.

At the same time, it was stressful keeping up his charade of perfection. But here, with Eden, he felt a kind of relaxed paradise. He could let down some barriers and be normal. In her eyes, he was just a newsboy who had kept her brother off her back for awhile. She didn't know his reputation as fully as his newsies and she didn't know his role in the strike over the summer.

He never caught her looking at him as if he was a hero. He didn't always have to be the fearless, coolly-collected leader that Brooklyn and all of New York expected all the time.

It was an intoxicating feeling.

It was a feeling he chased.

Their first meeting had only been the spark that began to light the flame inside him. He began seeking her out as much as he could. He wasn't sure what it was about her that spurred him on. She was always so honest with her answers, none of that deceit lingering behind her eyes as he had grown accustomed to in his dealings as the Brooklyn Leader.

Not only that, her lack of feeling fascinated him; the way she viewed everything in a way in which her mind could understand it because her body could not. He had never thought he could be attracted to a woman's mind, but the way she processed their world was so contrary to other people's views.

"Aren't ya freezin'?" He'd asked without thinking one day. They were taking the ferry from Long Island back to Brooklyn, the frigid December air cutting through his threadbare, secondhand coat. She was once again in her coat and a dress, similar in plainness to the green one she'd worn on the night they first got food together, but this one was a dark grey. You would have thought the grey of her dress against the grey sky would mute her beauty, he mused as he waited for her answer, but not in this case. Her mahogany hair and vibrant green eyes seemed to only be enhanced by her drab surroundings.

"Not really." He had noticed she usually took her time in answering him. Not for any duplicitous reason, but because she felt it was important to explain things right the first time.

Spot wondered what would happen if he pushed the subject just a bit, "Ya not cold at all? I can't feel my toes, might have already lost one ta frostbite." He smirked so she knew he was joking.

Concern lit up her eyes, "Frostbite is no joke. Do you want me to look at your feet?"

He didn't miss that she sidestepped the actual question, "They're fine. I can feel them, I was just jokin' with you."

"Oh."

"But, ya didn't answer my question. Are you cold?"

She did this odd thing where she looked to the right to make sure her shoulder shrugged, something he'd seen her do before but that everytime caught him so off guard because she was usually so still, and replied, "No. Cold is just the absence of heat." As if that explained everything.

He chuckled at that fact that she'd rather just state the obvious than lie, "And sunsets are just the last bit of light."

Eden met his eyes, hers lit up in happiness as a smile pulled across her face. It hit him like a suckerpunch to the stomach, that smile. Because she couldn't feel it, she didn't know it was there. But, it meant that she was genuinely happy, that her muscles understood what she was feeling and had done what came naturally even if she didn't have the nerves that told her brain to do it.

He suddenly felt as if they were sharing the secrets of the universe together. It was a heady, all consuming feeling. He wanted to chase this feeling, too.

Spot Conlon returned her smile with one of his own. Not a smirk or a half grin. A full, honest smile.

As the ferry docked and they parted ways, he was already planning the next time he could see her.

 **A/N: Whew. I had most of this written but part way through it turned a little different so I chopped that bit out for the next chapter and did a POV shift that felt right. I love looking at Eden from the outside. It's so hard to avoid having her do things like brush hair out of her face, or furrow her brows when she can't feel any of it! Do you guys see what I'm dealing with?! Haha, please review! Can't wait to hear what you all think of their budding friendship!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**

 ***insert disclaimer to please disclaimer gods***


	4. Chapter 4

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

It only got stranger as we began making our meetings more and more regular. It wasn't quite every day, and not always the same time and place. It was mostly whenever he had the time and I wasn't working. I only had suspicions of how he found me, but he never failed to surprise me when he would show up out of the blue as I walked to the library or park, suddenly walking towards me or even just appearing beside me.

At first, I didn't exactly know how to handle it. But, that initial awkwardness did not linger very long because, for whatever reason, we just seemed to slip into a completely natural rhythm. He asked most of the questions at first, but my unabashed honesty seemed to draw him out and before I knew it, he was telling me things and answering my own questions.

"So, has Jack asked how your birds are doing in finding me?" I asked him one sunny Saturday afternoon about three weeks after we began spending time together. Christmas had given away to the New Year and with the turning of the new century, I felt something akin to hope beginning to swell in my gut. It was not a familiar feeling for me. I rarely had things to look forward to in my life before this person had stumbled into it. I cut him a look out of the corner of my eye and was once again marveling at the handsomeness of his profile.

We sat on a bench in Battery park, one of my favorite places in Brooklyn. Sue usually gave me Saturday's off because he sold our fish at the market in the morning. Spot had already finished selling the morning edition and was lounging on the bench as if he owned the whole park, one leg thrown carelessly over the armrest of the bench, his cane leaning in between his legs while he tapped it on the ground. He looked relaxed, yet I knew he was always keeping an eye on his surroundings. He was ever watchful and ready in case something happened. I didn't really understand that aspect of being leader, but I suppose being as famous as he was, someone was always out to get him.

We watched carriages and people walk through the various pathways in mostly silence, every now and then broken by questions and answers. We were still feeling each other out, deciding if we liked this friendship that was still too new to really understand completely.

"Racetrack's been visitin' a lot more lately, which is surprisin' cuz he don't get along with my second, Spade." He tossed me a half grin, "They's both like cheatin' at pokah and don't like ta play nice."

Spot often talked of his boys, but I hadn't officially met any of them. Sure, I'd walk past quite a few newsies on my walks through the city, but I couldn't tell you what one of their names were. Not to mention I got the strange feeling in my gut that Spot didn't talk to any of his newsies about me. "So, Race is being Jack's bird." I said, slight amusement at my brother coloring my voice. I had heard of the birds that Spot kept, even before I had overheard Jack ask Spot to send them out for me. They weren't much of a secret to the newsies, but I guess the secret was _which_ of the boys were the birds and which were just newsboys. However, I assumed that's how he found me when I was out and about but I really couldn't imagine why he would want to know everywhere I went. I wasn't all that interesting.

He heard the amusement at my words and straightened next to me, moving both feet to the ground and turning his head to look at me. "Yeah. But, I don't know how long I can hold them off. I got a rep to protect."

"Of course." I said, simply. I had thought a lot about it and I knew he would bring this up soon. Spot Conlon's rep was that he knew all. If he couldn't find one girl in the city at Jack's request, then he wasn't as all-knowing as everyone thought. It could become a problem. It could be seen as weakness. Already, he was hurting himself to protect me. Much as being in his debt wore on my conscious, I knew I didn't want to interfere with something that was so important to him, "Tell him you found me."

His blue eyes were icier than normal as he continued to watch me, "Are you sure? Are you ready for this?"

I rolled my eyes, "Yes." I met his eyes and added, "And I'll still owe you one for keeping him away for this long."

The relief in his eyes was not as well hidden as usual, and I realized he was getting comfortable with me. And that I was beginning to read him better. One thing that was abundantly clear about Spot Conlon, I guess at least to me after the time we had spent together, was that he liked having favors to call in. I couldn't imagine why and in all honesty I didn't think there was anything he'd really ask in return that I wouldn't want to do. He had, after all, given me time to decide how best to handle meeting Jack for the first time in twelve years. Not to mention that it was because of Jack that we had met and while I wasn't exactly sure what Spot saw in me, I did enjoy the time we were spending together.

It was a very new thing for me, to have a friend. The loneliness was easy to ignore when you didn't know what you were missing, but since Spot started to come around I found myself unable to ignore the stab of it after he left. I found myself cataloging things, such as the information I picked out from my books, and waiting till I saw him again to tell him all about it.

"I should head back." He said, breaking me from my thoughts, but not moving.

Disappointed at this announcement, I passed him a sidelong glance. He rubbed his hand against his mouth, something he only did when something was bothering him, "What's wrong?" I asked.

He shook his head almost at once, another thing he did because he was not used to sharing his thoughts and worries, "Not sure. Somethin' feels off." He added that last bit for my benefit, I could tell, as if he caught himself not being honest with me and tried to correct it without worrying me about the details.

"With Brooklyn or Jack?" I prodded, feeling like it was important that he not worry alone. Was this what caring about others was like? Wanting to share their feelings so they weren't as burdened?

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, "Not sure." He repeated, but then stood. "Can I walk ya home?"

Surprised, I stood as well. "I guess."

That same flicker of relief. As if he was worried about me. No one had ever been worried about my well being. It was unnerving, actually. I didn't know how I could quell it for him, wasn't sure how to control what was bothering him.

I had been so numb to feelings for so long because I hadn't known anyone, hadn't gotten attached or made connections. I didn't know I could feel worried for someone because they were worried about me. Feelings seemed to be causing this unnecessary tension, causing confusion and frankly, they frightened me.

But, I let him walk me home and I thanked him when he saw me safely inside. And then I sat on my bed and opened a book to read and found myself missing him. His company, the presence he took up in the room, and the way he seemed to fill it. Without him around, I felt emptier than I had ever felt. If this was caring about someone, I wasn't sure I wanted it. It was too scary, too overwhelming. Why did people make friends when this was the feeling you got when they weren't around?

Shutting the book, I got up. I needed out, away from this lonely apartment and in the fresh air where I could breath, where the loud noises overwhelmed the feelings and made me feel numb again.

As I left my building, I got the feeling of eyes watching me and I briefly flickered my eyes around. Making sure not to make it seem I was looking for anyone in particular, I picked a direction and began walking. I had noticed one newsboy in question that I had seen time and time again, always far enough away that I hadn't noticed at first, but close enough that I began recognizing his face.

I began walking faster, dodging the crowd and attempting to see if I could lose him. After several blocks, I realized I couldn't and it was becoming abundantly clear that this was Spot's bird he must have tailing me. The reason he always found me.

That didn't add up, though. Because the more I thought about it, the more I remembered seeing this small boy well before Spot and I had ever met. As that thought occurred, I began to once again take sudden turns and dark alleys to lose my shadow, a creeping horror crawling over me to the point that I began to feel fear.

Finally, I stopped. I was no longer worried about losing him. Pressing myself against the wall, I awaited the inevitable. I heard his puffing breaths first, then his hurried footsteps that were so much lighter than most people's until finally he rounded the corner, concern in his eyes until I leaped forward and grabbed him.

"Who are you? Why are you following?" I asked the last question, though I already had an idea.

He struggled, but he was young and probably no more than eight or nine. Even against me, he wasn't strong enough and that concerned me because I thought Spot would train his birds better, no matter the age.

"Let me go!" The small boy bit out, still struggling. I gave him silent props. He was a fighter. Lucky for me, I couldn't feel the pain of his kicks but unfortunately, I also couldn't feel how tight I squeezed him either, "You're hurting me!" He yelled, the pain blatant in his tone. Concerned, I attempted to loosen my grip but I must have given him too much room and he slithered out of my arms.

Frustrated, I reached out and caught his shirt before he could run away, "Answer my questions." I told him.

"No!" Ever defiant, he met my gaze and tried to pull away from my grip.

"Please?" I asked, wondering if being kind would soften him to me.

Like a charm, it worked. His small shoulders fell as he took me in and regarded me from eyes that were a dark grey, reminding me of the color of my wool blanket at home. Grudgingly, he folded his arms across his chest and shrugged away my grip on his shirt. I let go tentatively, hoping he wouldn't run again.

"Whatya want?" He asked, finally, gruffly. He reminded me strangely of Spot.

"Just some answers." I replied, leaning against the alley wall.

He narrowed his grey eyes, "Spot tells ya things, ask him."

"He doesn't tell me things that concern me." Was my retort.

The small child shrugged, "I guess ya already know I'm one of his boidies."

"That much I figured out." I told him, "But why have you been tailing me? Why could Spot possibly want to know what I do?"

He shrugged again, "I don't know. He don't tell us why he does things. We just do what he says. He told me ta follah you, so I do."

I surveyed him, "How long have you been following me?"

"Since he made me a boidie." That didn't really answer my question, I mused, but it sounded just like the kind of answer Spot would give someone he didn't want to give answers to.

That thought endeared me more to the kid and I crouched down so we would be eye level, "Listen, kid. I didn't mean to snatch you up. I'm a friend of Spot's…at least I think we're friends. I don't really know what being a friend means, but I'm pretty sure he shouldn't have his underlings stalking me."

I think it was my honesty that won him over. He dropped his arms and reached out a hand to touch my hair before a blush crept up his cheeks and he pulled his arm back. Tucking them in his pockets, he ducked his head down before looking back up at me through the bangs of his dark hair, "Listen, hummingbird, I don't get why I follah ya. But, Spot wanted a boid on ya and I liked doin' it once so I asked him if I could keep doing it and he didn't mind so here I am."

"Hummingbird?" I asked, curiously.

"That's what we'se call ya. The way you flit through da crowds."

"And what should I call you?"

His sudden grin, all toothy and big, surprised me, "They's call me Hoot." He proclaimed proudly, then added, bashfully, "Sorry foah touchin' ya hair. It just makes me think of my muddah's hair."

The sweet words wound themselves into my heart and I found myself standing and telling him briskly, "Well, Hoot. Instead of following me around, why don't you keep me company? I'm going to the library. Have you been there?"

"I don't know if Spot will like that." His face turned stricken, "What if he tells me I can't be ya boid anymoah?"

I ruffled his hair as I had seen other people do to young kids, and assured him, "Don't worry. You let me handle him."

Hoot gave me that toothy grin again, before slipping his hand into mine. I almost didn't notice until he began pulling me along, "I've nevah been inside a library befoah!"

The excitement in his voice caused a noise to escape my mouth and I realized it was a laugh. My first real laugh. I let him pull me as we weaved through the crowd and as we passed a store front, I caught a glimpse of my face. A wide smile was pulled across it. I hadn't even known I could smile. A strange feeling was blossoming through me, warm and glowing. It wasn't unfamiliar, but the first time I remember feeling it was when Spot and I rode the ferry from Long Island together and he had prodded me about being cold.

In the days that followed, I began recognizing this feeling every time I was with Spot or Hoot. It took me longer than it should have, it wasn't a feeling I had ever had before they came into my life, but I finally found the right word to describe it.

Happiness.

 **A/N: Why am I soo busy? All I want to do is write! Haha. Hope you all like Hoot. He's too cute, I can't get over it. Thank you Pixielou and coveredinbees for the reviews! Next chapter should be fairly exciting, I think. I haven't written it, yet, but I definitely have a plan! Yay. Anyway, review!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**

 **Pretend there's a disclaimer. Pretend I care. Yinz know I don't own anything you recognize.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

"Race, you can tell Jack I found his sistah." Spot watched his jaw tick as he spoke those words to his reflection, knowing he actually had to say them to Race's face. But, a part of him didn't want to. He found himself selfishly wanting to keep Eden all to himself. Once Jack got to know her, he'd want to take more of her precious time and Spot would lose what little time he managed to get with her. And what if Eden decided she liked getting to know her brother? What if she moved out of Brooklyn to be closer to him? Spot really didn't like thinking about that possible future.

"Whatsamattah with you?" He gruffly asked his reflection, taking in his blue eyes and his brown hair, still wet from his bath. "It's just a girl."

But, Eden was never just a girl to him and the more he got to know her the truer that became. Now, he was beginning to see all of the facets of her that had been hidden when all he had done was keep an eye on her. Her intelligence, her blatant honesty, her dry humor. All of it wrapped up in one woman whose sense of touch was numbed.

That gave him pause. He was spending so much time with her that he was beginning to think of her as his, but she would never be able to feel his kiss or touch. That would be a problem for him.

Perhaps it would be best if he distanced himself from her just a touch. He'd tell Race he'd found her, be there for her if she needed him when she met Jack, and then back off just a bit so he could sort through whatever mess his feelings were getting into.

Spot ignored the jab of pain the thought of pulling himself away from her caused and slowly got dressed. Just as he was tucking his slingshot in at the small of his back, a soft knock sounded on his door. He walked over to it and opened it just a crack to see Hoot there.

A fear for Eden cut through him as he opened the door wider and motioned the little bird to come in, "What's wrong?"

Hoot looked miserable as he came in, which only alarmed Spot more. "Spot, Ise need ta make a confection."

Spot furrowed his brows, "Confession?"

"Yeah, yeah, confession." Hoot stood up straight, his hands behind his back as he looked Spot in the face, "Ise got caught bein' a boidie." Tears glistened in the nine-year-olds eyes, but he didn't let them fall. Getting caught being one of Spot's birds was a serious issue in the Lodging House. Often the person in question was mocked and ridiculed and the title was stripped from them.

"By Eden." Spot said, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the young boy. He'd never admit it, but Hoot was one of his favorite birds. It was why, when Hoot had asked to stay on Eden, he'd allowed it. But, he had been waiting for Eden to figure it out; he had known she would eventually realize he actually put a spy on her.

Hoot's shoulders and head fell, "Yeah. And it happened a week ago and I nevah told ya. I didn't want ta get fiahed from the job. But, I knew I gotta tell ya." He kicked the ground with his shabby boot and sighed, "I'll take my punishment, though."

"Well, I guess a punishment is in ordah for you not coming to me right away, howevah…" Hoot looked up, the hope in his grey eyes making the smallest smirk appear at the corner of Spot's mouth, "I like ya on Eden. I'm not gonna revoke your birdie status. Mostly, because I knew she'd figure it out. It's not about you bein' a bad birdie, she's just too smart."

Hoot's eyes got a little dreamy look to them, "She is really smaht. She took me to da liberry and got a children's fairytale book out and she's been readin' one ta me every day…" He trailed off and then looked embarrassed, "I'm sorry."

Spot nodded, "It's awright, Hoot. I'm glad ya told me. She didn't." He scowled lightly at that.

Hoot's eyes widened, "Well, she may be mad at ya…"

"Why?"

The boy took a step back at Spot's angry question, "Well, she knows ya had me tailing her before the two of ya met…"

Spot ground his teeth, realizing his mistake. He should have switched out Hoot after he met her. But, unfortunately, the mistake was already made. "I'll tawk ta her." He told Hoot, "As for your punishment, I want ya ta clean the washroom every Saturday foah a month."

Hoot pouted, but nodded his head, "Awright, boss."

Nodding his own head, Spot ruffled his hair, "Now, get back ta Eden. I'll meet up with ya latah. Got some business ta deal with."

A smile broke across Hoot's face, and Spot smirked at the kids' obvious crush. "See ya!" Hoot shouted as he took off at once.

Spot followed him out of the room at a slower pace, glancing into the bunk room to make sure all the boys were gone, before heading out. He caught up with Spade, his second, at the Distribution Center, "Aye, Spade." He greeted, clapping the red haired boy on the back.

"Hey, Spot. How's it rollin'?" Spade grumbled the question, cutting a glare back behind them at the Italian boy Spot was looking for. Spot had seen them playing poker the night before and by the scowl on Spade's face and the laughter coming from Race's direction, he could tell who won that game.

Grunting in response to Spade, who was used to such lengthy answers, he headed towards Racetrack, "'Ey, Race. Can I tawk ta ya?"

Racetrack, who had been joking around with one of the other boys, looked up at Spot and nodded before patting the kid on the shoulder and jogging towards Spot, "What's goin' on, Spot?" Then, excitement entered his voice as he asked, "Didya find her?"

"Take a walk with me." Spot said, Race's question catching a few of the Brooklyn boy's attention. The Brooklyn Leader cut a glare, causing them to turn away.

They walked a few blocks in silence, Race fidgeting the whole time before pulling out a cigar and lighting it. His fidgeting, such a contrast from Spot's usual companion, began driving him crazy to the point he stopped them short of the park and turned to face the gambler, "I found her."

The relief on Race's face was so apparent, Spot wondered how he got the rep of having a great poker face, "Oh, great. Where is she?"

"Not so fast, I tawked ta her. She wants ta meet Jack at a neutral territory. Brooklyn Bridge, next Saturday at two o'clock." Spot had suggested the docks, but Eden had insisted meeting Jack halfway.

Race scowled, "Why would she tawk to you?"

Spot shrugged, "When I found her, I wanted ta make shoah she wanted ta see Jack. I didn't want ta just spring him on her."

"That's none of ya business, Spot. This is between Jack and her." Racetrack was watching him in a way that Spot did not like, so he fortified his masks and gave the Manhattan boy a blasé look.

"Listen, Race. I'm all foah family reunions, but he abandoned her. Most people don't get ovah that sort of thing lightly. I was thinking of her needs ovah Jack's guilty need ta reconcile." He knew he'd let a bit of anger color his tone, but that part of this reunion was what had bothered him the more he dwelled on it and the more he got to know Eden.

Race had a contemplative look on his face, but he nodded, "Ya right. What Jack did was wrong. But, I won't say nothin' ta him about that. I'll head back ta Manhattan and let Jack know about Saturday. Thanks, Spot."

Spot nodded, but said nothing as Race left. He knew he should head back to the distribution center and sell, but he felt too amped up, too restless, like there was somewhere he needed to be. Making a quick decision, he moved off down the street and in search of one of his birds.

He came upon Jay first, who led him to Finch, who told him where he could find Hoot. Following the directions, Spot walked towards Battery Park, one of Eden's favorite haunts. He blew warmth in his hands as he surveyed the network of paths and chose a random one to start his search.

Laughter spilled through the quiet that had fallen with the snow, and it sounded like it was just around the bend. He followed the curving road until the bushes and trees parted to reveal a scene that was not exactly what he was expecting.

The usually still, controlled creature that was Eden Sullivan was gone and in her place was a new Eden. This new Eden was running around a section of the park where Hoot and her must have built up a myriad of large piles of snow that could only be considered forts. She was holding an armful of snowballs that she was periodically throwing in Hoots direction. The kid was stationed at one specific fort, a pile of snowballs beside him as he alternately made one and threw one at the older girl.

This Eden was shrieking as the balls thrown in her direction and laughing when she threw her own snowballs. Her laughter was a sound Spot had never heard before and one that he found more pleasant than any song. For a second, he felt as if he was catching a rare glimpse of the woman Eden was always meant to be.

Before Hoot or Eden caught sight of him, he knelt down and scooped up his own snowball, reveling for a second in the icy cold of the substance and wondering for a split second what it would be like if he couldn't feel this. He had, of course, had numbed fingers from the cold and vaguely remembered the strangeness of touching newspapers and coins without really feeling them. He supposed if he never knew what things felt like, it would be easier to live without that knowledge. It was strange to imagine that Eden didn't know what silk or wool felt like, that she could read those words and yet, be unable to comprehend exactly what they meant.

Standing, he watched as the two lobbed snowballs at each other. "Eat my snow!" Eden yelled as she tossed hers, although he noticed she threw it with care. Hoot shouted in laughter as he ducked his head and the snowball hit the tree behind him.

Spot took a moment to weigh his own snowball in his hand before he took aim and tossed it. He watched in satisfaction as it hit Eden smack dab in the face and he found himself chuckling at the look of utter shock that was there as the snow fell away. Shaking her head, she met his gaze and a look of steeled determination entered those green eyes of her.

Realizing what he had just started, he sprinted for the nearest fort and managed to dive behind it just as a volley of snowballs passed over his head and died on the white blanket of snow covering the ground.

"Oooh, Spot Conlon. You're in so much trouble." Eden called out, "Hoot, I call a seize fire and request an immediate peace assembly where I propose that we join up against our newest enemy."

"Huh?" Hoot called back, and Spot found himself laughing once more as the child peeked over his fort to give Eden a confused look at her words. He took the opportunity to aim a snowball at Hoot's face.

His look of shock laughably mirrored Eden's and Spot dodged to the next fort as Eden screamed, "GET HIM!"

Hoot did not waste another second as he gathered his snowballs and joined Eden in drowning Spot in snow. Spot spent most of his time dodging between forts and sending choice snowballs directly at their faces, but he was soon overwhelmed and the three collapsed on the closest bench, breathing heavily, faces red from exertion, and laughter ringing through Battery Park.

"We won!" Hoot shouted, his whole body shaking from the melted snow that was quickly penetrating his threadbare clothes.

"Oh, dear, you're shivering." Eden murmured, wrapping an arm around the kid's small shoulders, "We should get you home."

"I'll take him back." Spot said, his cheeks aching from the laughter and smiling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had fun like this, definitely well before ever becoming the Brooklyn Leader.

"I'll go along. My apartment isn't too far from the lodging house." Eden insisted, but Spot shrugged, uncaring and frankly just looking forward to spending time with her.

They started away from the park and he cast a look towards her to make sure she was alright. Her cheeks and fingers were red, her hair wet, and her eyes so bright from the morning snowball fight he felt as if they would glow in the dark. She had never looked more beautiful.

"I tawked ta Race." He told her over Hoot's head.

"Yeah?" She asked, her arm still around Hoot, her pace slower to accommodate his shorter strides.

Spot nodded, "We'll meet him next Saturday at two on the Brooklyn Bridge."

Eden caught his gaze, humor alight in her eyes, "We? I wasn't aware this was something the King of Brooklyn would concern himself with."

The gentle teasing warmed him and he opened his mouth to tease her back, all thoughts of distancing himself from her forgotten in this moment, when something caught her attention and she jerked her head up ahead of them.

Curious, he watched as she listened to something and then she spoke to him softly and seriously, "Spot, I'm about to ask something of you and I need you to promise to do it."

Feeling the need to humor her, he shrugged, "Awright, I promise."

"Switch me places."

Hoot looked between them, curiosity and concern in his grey eyes as Eden moved behind him and took the building side of the sidewalk as Spot moved to the street side.

For an entire block, Spot wondered at her decision, unaware of what was ahead of them. Just as they started past a particularly dark and wide alley, Spot heard his name called and turned his head to the right to see Jay across the street, "Spot!" Jay yelled, just as movement to his left pulled his attention from his bird to Eden.

A rather large kid had exited the alley, the silver of a knife flashing in his hands as he zeroed in on Spot, unconcerned with the girl who was closer to the alley. But, that was his mistake because as quick as lightning, Eden had hip tossed him to the sidewalk.

Except it wasn't over, Spot saw as two other knife-wielding teens came barreling out. Spot drew his cane out and managed to trip the first guy while the other went for Eden. Spot used the fake golden plated top to whack the guy in the head to make sure he stayed down before turning to help Eden.

Her attacker had just managed to send her to the ground when Spot turned his sights on him. Anger coursed through Spot on a level that he couldn't remember ever feeling, not even when it seemed like Jack had betrayed them during the strike. He lunged for the guy and managed to get a few good throws in before he was distracted by Eden yelling his name.

Before he could comprehend why she was yelling, she was plowing into him, causing him to lose his balance and go down with her following right behind. Dazed for a split second, he wrapped his arms around her to protect her from hitting the hard ground, forgetting the fact she wouldn't feel any of it.

"Eden?" He asked, watching as a few of his newsies came running over to take on the two remaining guys…two? His brain only remembered him fighting one.

Eden moved in his arms, pushing against him to sit up and he looked over to the other side of him and caught a bloodied knife on the sidewalk beside them. He sat up as Eden stood, and he checked himself for any pain or stab wounds, wondering how that knife got bloody.

Alarm leaped through him as he stood, "Hoot?" He asked, looking for the small bird and hoping that wasn't his blood.

"He's fine." Eden told him, her voice deeper than usual, probably from the exertion of the fight. He verified her words as he caught Hoot and Jay standing over one of the guys who had attacked them.

He looked over at her, "Why'd ya tackle me?" He asked her.

She was looking down at her coat, attempting to button it up fast, and so she didn't meet his eyes as she said, "The first guy who charged us had gotten back up and was coming for you again."

"Why didn't ya tackle him?" Spot asked, wondering why her fingers were shaking, why she was trying to button her coat quickly.

"He was about to gut _you_." Eden Sullivan said those words so simply, so patently honest as she always did, that for some reason it finally clicked in his brain that she had just saved his life.

"Let me help you." He said, still watching as she struggled to button her coat. His head was beginning to clear, the haze of anger and the adrenaline from fighting dissipating quickly as he took a step towards her.

"No, I got it." Her words were so defensive and she backed away from him so quickly he realized, finally, that something was wrong.

"Eden." Spot, clear headed once more but becoming increasingly worried, invaded her space to take control of her hands. Images of the bloody knife, her tackling him, and him almost getting gutted…He pulled her hands from her coat and unbuttoned the few she had managed to button. His breath caught as he looked on in dawning horror; her blue-striped shirt was soaking up her blood from a knife wound meant for him.

 **A/N: Dudes. This is chapter got so long. I was just over 7 pages. I think the snowball scene was the only thing unplanned, but it was cute and lighthearted. Thank you to my continued reviewers, Pixielou and coveredinbees. You guys are swell! I look forward to hearing how you all enjoyed this chapter! Leave me a review!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**

 ***Inserts disclaimer to please the disclaimer Gods***


	6. Chapter 6

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

I didn't know what was wrong with me at first. I clearly tackled Spot to keep the young man from slicing him open, and I got up just fine. But, for some reason my brain began to fog and as I started buttoning my coat I could see my fingers shaking. I answered Spot's questions robotically, but when he moved to help I felt a leap of fear. I did not want him to know I felt off.

"Eden." Suddenly he was invading my space but his voice sounded far away and I watched as he took my hands in his own. For a second, I was mesmerized by the size difference of our hands and I wondered how his would feel. What would it be like to hold hands with someone?

Swiftly, he started unbuttoning my coat buttons and then he pulled it away and he looked on in shock as I gazed indifferently down at the red substance that was quickly staining my shirt. What a shame, this was one of my favorite shirts. But, it answered my foggy minds question about why I was feeling different.

"I guess that's my blood." I found myself saying, looking up at Spot's face. The shock had worn off and in its place was a hardened look.

One minute I was standing upright and in the next I was suddenly being picked up, cradled against him and he strode down the street in quick strides but not quite running. "Put your arms around my neck." He ordered, and I immediately wrapped them around. A small wince passed across his face, "Easy there, your grips a little tight." When I loosened them he warned, "Too lose, sweetheaht. Add a little moah pressure…that's the ticket."

I tried to keep my hands right where he told me too, but for some reason my ears were ringing, everything was so muffled that it made me a little panicky. I didn't like that I was losing another sense. I didn't like the black that was dancing around the edges of my vision, either. "I'm scared." I whispered to him, "My hearing is muffled and there are black spots in my eyes."

"Shhh. Your body is going inta shock. If you go unconscious, don't worry. I won't let anythin' happen to ya."

I felt relief at his words. I knew what shock was, I had read about it, and one of the biggest fears I had was being unconscious and not feeling if someone was shaking me or touching me. I had experienced a frightening episode when I was eight of a man who had found me asleep in the alley and who had begun to touch me…my mind shuddered away from the memory, unwilling to think of that on a good day let alone now.

We reached the steps of the lodging house and he yelled to one of his boys to call the doctor as he sprinted up the steps two at a time and turned to the sick room that all lodging houses were equipped with. Gently, he laid me down on the first bed in the room and I found myself reaching out for his hand, "I trust you." I don't know why I needed to tell him that, but it felt so important to my brain to get those words out before I succumbed to unconsciousness.

"You'll be awright, Eden." He replied, his eyes such a cold blue, I figured they'd scare death away and I let them be the last thing I saw as I let myself go into the black.

* * *

I woke up three times over a period of time. The first time, Spot was sitting beside me, bent over my stab wound, stitching it diligently up. That didn't make a whole lot of sense to me because the doctor should have been the one to do this. I figured I was dreaming because I'd rather have Spot stitch me up than have a stranger touch me, but I found it comforting even if it was a dream.

The second time, I only woke up to hear voices, "…send a message with those boys back ta Queens and let Catch think the chances of her surviving are slim. He needs the guilt of an innocent death ta scare him a bit." I recognized Spot's voice instantly as he ordered his boys around. Since none of that made sense to me, I let sleep overcome me again.

The third time I found myself floating to the surface, I opened my eyes to the soft morning light that filtered into the sick room. It was quiet and empty, not a footstep to be heard in the entire building. Sitting up, I glanced around. How long had I been asleep? Gently, I raised the hem of the shirt I was wearing, which was definitely not my shirt, and glanced down at the bandages that were covering my left side. I had studied anatomy textbooks, so I was figuring the knife must have missed any major organs because I was still alive. The only real threat now would be internal bleeding. I lightly pressed my hand to the bandage and held it there as I slowly stood up.

A wave of dizziness caused me to sit back down on the bed, but at least my feet were firmly pressed on the floor. I took a few breaths till it passed, then stood again. It was weird to have my brain so slow, so hazy. I did not like this at all.

I moved around the room, finding my coat with my key still in the pocket. I put it on slowly, trying not to jostle the wound on my side. It was hard to be careful when I couldn't feel a damn thing, no pain to let me know I was straining myself. It was more of a nuisance than anything at this point. Sighing, I sat down to gingerly put on my boots, which took longer than I had anticipated because I was so worried about tearing the stitches.

Finally, I was ready. Keeping one hand on my side just in case, although I wasn't sure what that would do, but it gave me some semblance of comfort, I began to slowly make my way out of the lodging house.

As luck would have it, Spot entered just as I was half way down the stairs.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" He said, his voice reprimanding and angry. He took the stairs two at a time until he met me, his sudden presence crowding me on the stairs.

I tried to move back a bit, but he was completely in my personal space. "I'm going home. Or to the docks to make sure Sue knows why I didn't show up this morning." I told him, annoyance coursing through me at having to explain myself to him and having him so close to me.

He must have picked up on this because he took a step back and leaned on the hand rail as he surveyed me, "I already tawked ta Sue. He knows why you didn't come taday." He paused, before continuing, "And I wanted ya here even though I could have easily taken you home. But, I don't trust ya landlord and here I can keep an eye on ya."

I searched his face for the truth of those words. It was so interesting to see the play of emotions on his face that he usually kept under a tight reign. Tiredness and concern lingered there for the moment, and always that perpetual curiosity as he watched every move I made. I should think him offputting for how observant her was, but for some reason I liked it. He saw the little details most missed, the same as I. Suddenly, I felt the urge to reach out and smooth the dark circle that had appeared over night under his left eye. I felt it so much, that my hand moved without my permission to do just that. We both watched as my hand moved towards him, his eyes closing a brief second before I touched the soft skin of his cheek... and then I felt the tiniest spark of _something,_ perhaps a pain in my side, or the softness of his cheek, or the whisper of his breath and I snatched my hand back to cradle it against my chest, feeling nothing and numbness once more.

Alarm and concern appeared on his face as he reached for my hand, but I pulled back and away from him, "I'll go back upstairs." I told him, trying to keep him from realizing that something had just happened. Something I wasn't entirely sure about and that kind of had me spooked. Turning around I started up the stairs, attempting to take it slow but the adrenaline of that spark between us thrummed through me, pushing me forward.

"Hey, be careful." He reached out a hand to steady me at the small of my back and I shied as far away from his hand as the stairs allowed.

"Please, don't touch me." I told him, ignoring the flash of hurt.

"I thought ya trusted me." Spot snapped, the hurt triggering just a touch of anger.

I didn't want to tell him, especially when he didn't know I couldn't feel to begin with. I shrugged, "I do. I just don't want to be touched right now." As usual, my simplistic honesty caught him off guard.

He blanked his face, I wasn't too sure why he decided to do it now, as he said, "I hate when you do that."

"Do what?" I asked, as I shuffled back into the sick room, abruptly very exhausted. I shrugged my coat off and set it down on the bed across from mine.

Spot pulled back the covers of the bed I had been in this morning and waited until I got in. Without touching me, as I had asked, he tucked the blankets around me, "When ya so honest about stuff that I can't even get angry about it."

I chuckled, surprising us both. After it passed, I told asked him lightly, "Am I gonna make it, doctor?"

A smirk quirked the corner of his mouth. It made me yearn to know what a kiss felt like and I figured I was just too exhausted to logically explain _that_ to myself. "You'll make it. But, unfortunately ya crossed ya name out of my book of debts."

"I'll have to write yours in mine." I joked dryly, eyes half closing before adding, "I can't believe you actually have a book of people who owe you favors."

I watched him shrug as he pulled over a chair, "It's because of that book that we got attacked."

Surprised, I opened my eyes all the way and turned my head to see his face. "Really?"

He nodded as he put his boot against my bed's post and balanced the chair on its back two legs, "Yeah. I have info on Queens' leadah that…he don't like." He paused to look thoughtfully at the tip of his gold plated cane, "He sent boys aftah me. Said whoever brought back the knife with Brooklyn's blood, news of his death, along wit the cane he wields, they'll be named the next leadah of Queens. They wanna silence me befoah I blackmail their leadah."

"Wow." Was all I could think to say. Newsie politics were way more interesting than I had ever thought.

Spot chuckled, "Yeah. I actually wasn't planning on blackmailing them. But, Queens don't know that."

"What were you going to use the information for?" I asked.

"Not shoah. Just had it foah security. In case I needed ta call in a favor or if I needed back up. There's always some gang leadah looking for recruits in the newsies. I don't want my boys goin' down that dark path."

I nodded, my eyes getting heavier.

"Get some sleep. Once that heals a bit, I'll get ya home." His voice was soft in the silence of the lodging house.

"Thank you, Spot." I murmured, before once again falling asleep.

* * *

Spot watched her sleep, as still in unconsciousness as she was awake. Her color was beginning to come back and he shook his head at her. She had been white as a sheet trying to leave. He didn't even want to think about what could have happened if she had almost gotten home and collapsed on the street, he was just glad he'd gotten back when he had.

Stubborn. Just like her brother. But, her inability to feel the pain her body was in could have gotten her killed. It was like she lacked a survival instinct. He'd have to keep a closer eye on her because he wasn't really sure how she survived the harsh city streets this long. It was clear she could fight, at least a little bit, although he was amazed she could as he tried to imagine not being able to feel the hits. Not feeling the weariness, or the blood running down your face. Part of that sounded like it could be useful in a fight, but he knew being numb to the pain was not a good thing, you needed to feel it in order to know when you hit your limits.

Sighing, he tapped his cane as he replayed their moment on the stairs. She had reached out with her small hand and had brushed his cheek ever so lightly. He savored that moment. But, something had happened and he didn't know what. She had pulled her hand back as if he had burned her, which didn't make sense because, again, _she couldn't feel_. Yet, it seemed as if for a moment, she _had_ felt something. Why did that give him a small burst of hope?

He felt this strong wave of urgency. As if he needed her to confide in him, and soon. As if gaining more of her trust and being her confidant was of the greatest importance at this moment. It was a weird feeling. Spot didn't really understand it because the business with Queens had escalated very quickly and he wasn't sure he should take his focus off that right now.

A light tap on the door brought him from his thoughts as it opened just a tad and Hoot peeked in. Spot waved him in, knowing how worried the kid had been since the fight yesterday.

"She awright?" Hoot whispered softly, coming to stand beside Spot.

Gently, Spot set the front legs of the chair on the floor and nodded, "She'll be awright, kid. Just needs ta rest."

"The boys keep tawking." Hoot murmured, looking worried, "About how she didn't cry or make any noises of pain. Her face was blank tha whole time…"

Spot nodded, "She's a tough cookie. You just keep telling them that."

"Awright. Othah than that, they like her. Like that she took a knife foah ya."

He scowled at that, "I don't like that."

Hoot looked ashamed, "I know. But, she saved ya life. Rook says the way the knife got her would have gutted you."

"What does Rook know, he wasn't even there." Spot replied, chuckling.

The little bird smiled, "True, but Jay told everyone the whole thing."

Rolling his eyes at the gossiping of his newsboy, Spot reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins, "Run down ta the food joint and get some grub for you, me, and her. She'll be hungry when she wakes."

"On it, Spot!" The kid replied, chest puffing out with self-importance before leaving the room.

Spot kicked back in his chair once again, balancing on the two back legs as he decided what to do with the girl asleep in front of him. Catch, the leader of Queens, had likely heard back from the boys who had attacked him. He hoped Catch sweated about the innocent girl who'd gotten stabbed, hoped it made Queens think twice before coming for him again.

All because he knew Catch's big secret. He couldn't believe he was almost killed over it-that Eden almost got killed over it. It was enough for him to want to go and face Queens, use the secret for blackmail like they expected and maybe take over their territory in retribution.

Eden shifted in her sleep, her eyes dancing behind her lids, and the thought of revenge slid away. She was fine, alive and whole, and he was going to watch over her better from now on.

Besides, she was keeping secrets of her own and Spot Conlon wanted to know what those secrets were.

 **A/N: Yay! I updated two stories again today! I'm not sure why, but I really like this particular chapter. It's definitely a turning point for Eden. Also, I added in a little somethin' somethin' on behalf of Pixielou! Spot saying gangs trying to pick up newsies as new recruits is a sort of tip-of-the-hat towards her story Ants and Giants, which is an excellent read and I urge you all to go over and read and review it! She's going in for surgery, so wish her the best by giving her reviews to read during her recovery! Thank yous go to my reviewers and my readers! You guys keep me young, haha!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**

 ***Insert disclaimer to please Disclaimer Gods***


	7. Chapter 7

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

Spot Conlon was the worst, I began to realize two days later. I wasn't allowed to lift a damn finger, or go anywhere, or even really hang out with the newsies. He kept me in the sick room most of the time and came in there to keep me company when he wasn't selling newspapers. I was mind numbingly bored.

There were perks, though, I thought as aloud I said, "Three meals a day, you're spoiling me, Conlon." Two days in a row of this and I had already noticed my face looked a little rounder when I looked in the mirror. Or, it could just be because I didn't often look at my reflection.

"Don't get too excited, it's just soup." He told me, coming into the room with two bags, but I could tell he was actually pleased. "Plus, ya need ta eat. Helps the healin' process and ya too thin as it is." From the first bag he pulled out two containers of soup, one for me and one for him.

I glanced over to make sure I was shrugging but made no comment. I couldn't very well tell him that I only ate when I felt I needed it. Granted, food tasted great and I did actually enjoy it but mostly I just forgot that I needed to eat more often. "What's in the second bag?" I asked, curiously eyeing it.

He actually looked a little embarrassed as he reached up to rub his neck and look at the bag, "I uh, borrowed the key to ya place and grabbed that stack of books next to ya bed…" He grabbed the bag and held it out to me.

I stared at him, I'm assuming flabbergasted because no one had ever really been this thoughtful about my needs. Ever. "You brought me my books?"

"Yeah."

Opening the brown paper bag, I pulled out my stack of books that I had just taken out of the library and hadn't had a chance to read, yet. Among them was the fairytale book I'd gotten specifically for Hoot, and I imagined how excited he would be for me to read him a new one.

Alright, maybe Spot Conlon wasn't the worst, I mentally redacted. Maybe he was beginning to grow into one of my favorite people. "Thank you." I told him, meeting his blue eyes so he could see the sincerity.

Spot looked flustered, "I didn't think it'd be that big of a deal…I thought ya'd be mad I took ya key and went in ya home."

"It's just a place," I told him, "and it's not like you would steal from me. I'd know it was you now, anyway." I felt that hum of happiness flood through me as I looked up at him.

He gave me one of his rare, full smiles as he opened his soup up and sat down in the chair next to my bed. For some reason, that smile of his always left me a tad breathless and lightheaded. I took the lid off my soup container and dip my spoon in. It was still hot, but utterly delicious.

It was silent between us as we ate for a few minutes, Spot lost in thought as I looked at the cover of my books. Glancing up at him, I wondered if he'd let me read to Hoot, "Can I go downstairs?" I asked.

It looked as though he was going to turn me down for the hundredth time, but then he sighed and nodded, "Aftah ya eat."

Feeling a tad excited at the prospect of new walls to look at, I began eating the soup in earnest. It gave me some time to get acquainted with the fact that I was going to go down and have the opportunity of socializing with the boys. That made a bit of nerves flutter in my stomach because I wasn't very great at socializing, Spot Conlon being the only exception and that was mostly because he never made me feel like anything I did or said was awkward.

The other boys might as well be a different species. I had listened to them the last few days as they talked, teased, and fought. What if they teased me? Not that I would care but that part of me that had pushed for me to talk to Spot, the one that ached for connections to the world around me, that one would care.

"Will they like me?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

"They already like ya. A little too much." He grumbled that last part under his breath but I heard it and went back to my soup as a giddy excitement filled me. I heard all their voices, now I'd be able to put faces to them.

Alright, I heard them talk about me. With my hearing, how could I not? Whispered awe's of how I had taken a nearly fatal knife wound for Spot, about how I had withstood agonizing pain without even a grimace on my face. It had definitely done my ego well.

More than that, though, listening to their interactions and the lack of Spot's voice amid theirs, unless an argument broke out or someone stepped out of line, had given me more insight to the man in front of me, a different perspective than the one I had initially had.

Spot Conlon, in the eyes of his boys, could do no wrong. This was so apparent among them, that it made me worry a bit for him. They had built him up on a pedestal that teetered a very fine edge. It also made me nervous for him, because the almost inevitable fall from it could be damaging to the entire community of boys. I half hoped he would balance himself on it, for his sake and theirs, but I knew that keeping up with their expectations would also take a toll on him.

Despite the hero-worshipping among the crowd, there was also a deep-seated respect and fear. They gave their leader space, as if they expected him to lash out at any moment, and none of them save for perhaps Spade, his second, seemed to really consider Spot a friend. It was as if he'd alienated himself from all of them by being leader. Which I assumed was to keep that respect and fear in place, but must leave him so incredibly lonely.

It was becoming clear to me now why he had befriended me. He felt a loyalty to them all, but also above them. Unconnected to any of them in the sense of friendship. If they were his friends, how could he lead them? I was an outsider, though. He could befriend me and would not have to worry about me treating him as they did. It did make me wonder if he kept me separated with them so I didn't change the way I treated him.

"Whatya thinkin' about, Sullivan?" He asked, catching me watching him over the rim of my soup bowl.

I wanted to shrug, but I didn't want to turn my head and make sure I had done it, so I only stared steadily at him in silence as I remembered a conversation between two of the boys that I had heard just that morning. Spot having already headed out to the distribution center, which was unusual given that he almost always waited until the last boy left. My ego liked to think he wanted to get his selling done faster to come back and check on me, but I shoved that away as I had listened to two boys as they finished up in the washroom.

"Ya notice Spot's not so…Spot, lately?" The first voice asked, a deep rumbling voice as though he were much older than he was.

The second voice, however, was just a bit higher pitched, the underlying southern accent making me wonder how far this one had gone to run away from home, "I reckon it's the girl." That comment had me giving them my full attention.

Voice number one made a throat noise of affirmation before adding, "He always paced around here all restless-like."

"Reminded me of energy from a storm. Like lightning." Southern boy added, "But, now he's more…"

"Grounded." They seemed to find the word at the same time.

They were quiet for a long moment, so long in fact that I thought they probably decided to drop the subject. I listened as their footsteps left the washroom, paused in the bunkroom, before heading down the hall to leave. Just as they were on the stairs, the first voice added, "Maybe she's like one of them…whatya call its? On top of all the tall buildings?"

"Lightnin' rod?" The southern one guessed, and they both laughed as they exited the building. I heard one comment on the day before tuning them out and pondering on that conversation.

I opened my mouth to answer him, or maybe to ask him something, when a scuffle in the bunkroom caught Spot's attention and he waved me to keep eating as he got up, "I'll be right back."

I quirked my head as he left, listening as Spot went in to break it up. One boy, Dice, had been picking on a younger kid, Tomato. Spot listened to both sides of their story, cleverly picking out the truth in between, and gave Dice chores for bullying. It was interesting to hear how it all went down, but I yearned to see their face. The expressions and body language that I could see and understand, but never mimic or feel myself, gave me a lot more insight to people and situations.

Spot came back in, his face blank and controlled like it had been the first evening I met him. "Everything alright?" I asked.

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but switched the words at the last second, "Yeah, just boys bein' boys." He looked tired, though, as he sat heavily down on the chair.

I set my soup aside and got off the bed to move around. I couldn't feel my muscles getting stiff, but I was mentally sick of not moving. I was so often wandering the streets or keeping busy on the boat that it was tough for me to stay in this one room so long.

"You shouldn't be movin' around so much." He told me, but he was watching me almost too intently.

I ignored that, "I need to leave here by Friday." I told him, looking out the window.

"Why's that?"

The streets were slowly emptying as dusk settled on the city. From my vantage point, I could see people walking past in all shapes and sizes. The only one who caught my attention was a young girl around my age, standing across the street and watching everything. This included the lodging house. For a second, her eyes looked up and caught mine before she started moving down the street. It was probably a coincidence, but I took note of it. "I'd like to be at my own apartment for a bit before seeing Jack." I wanted to center myself, get comfortable and remind myself who I was.

Spot Conlon was getting under my skin, so to speak, and I wanted time alone. Away from him and whatever that flash of…something was. I'd kept a distance between us since then and I did not feel like I wanted to test anything out, yet.

I turned my head back to him and was surprised to see that he'd soundlessly moved across the room to be right next to me. His blue eyes staring into mine with an unwavering intensity, "I feel responsible foah ya."

"I understand why." I told him, "I do. But, I've been on my own for so long. I can't stay here."

He looked at me coolly, "Didja still want to go downstairs?"

"Yes." I told him, a little breathless from his nearness.

Spot held out his elbow for me to take, "Then let's go."

I hesitated just a moment before slipping my arm through, making sure his shirt kept us from skin to skin contact. I pulled him up short right by the bed to grab the book of fairytales, "So I can read to Hoot." I told him, causing a smirk to pull up the corner of his mouth.

 **A/N: I feel like Spot, I don't want to share her with anyone but Spot! I like writing their scenes, even though I totally meant to skip ahead to her meeting with Jack. (I think Spot's trying to keep me from it!) Haha. Sorry this took a little longer than all the Desperate Measure chapters! Please tell me what you think in a review!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**

 ***insert disclaimer to please disclaimer gods!***


	8. Chapter 8

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

All too soon, my week at the Lodging House was up. I stood beside Spot Friday morning and waved to the boys as they headed out to the distribution center.

"Bye, Hummin'bird!" Whistle, one of the boys who had gossiped about Spot being like lightning, the one with a slight southern accent, yelled to me. His best friend, Tuck, the one with the voice so deep he sounded thirty instead of fifteen, blew me a farewell kiss.

Mirth bubbled up and I heard my laughter ring through the front foyer, "Bye, boys!"

"Looks like ya settled right in." Spot murmured for my ears alone. I glanced at his face from the corner of my eye, trying to gauge what he meant, but his face was set in that blank mask. However, I could have sworn I saw a brief gleam of satisfaction. Which puzzled me. Why would it please Spot that his boys liked me?

They had been taken with me when Hoot and Jay had spread their story of the knife attack around, but the first night Spot allowed me to go down and join them I hadn't expected them to swarm me like adoring admirers. Questions had been fired at me about the knife fight as well as other questions, such as how Spot and I had met. They were all dying of curiosity about how I came to be loyal to the infamous Spot Conlon. I remember casting him a helpless look at those questions, and he gazed at me as if he was also curious for my answer.

Boys were weird and complicated, I decided. I avoided all their questions of how we met, figuring Spot could tell them all I was Jack Kelly's sister once I actually met up with Jack.

Which turned my thoughts to the impending meeting with him. It was only a day away and yet; I could feel a sense of foreboding. My stomach did flip flops, wondering how things would go.

"You awright?" Spot asked as the flood of boys dwindled down till it was just the two of us.

"Yeah." I told him, moving to walk out the front door.

But, I found myself pulled back and I looked down in surprise to see Spot holding onto my elbow, the only thing between our skin was the thin fabric of my coat. "Don't lie to me." He pulled his hand away and I moved my gaze up to his.

"I've been bedridden six days, I'm tired." But, the words sounded hollow and false even to my ears and I cleared my throat, "Spot."

"Eden."

Sighing, I looked out the front door, "I'm not looking forward to seeing Jack."

It was silent so long, I turned to look at him just as he was pulling his hand down to his side. The gesture made me think that maybe he'd been reaching out to touch me. But, he met my eyes with a fierce look in his blue ones, "I'll be there. I won't let anything happen ta ya."

Something strange welled up inside of me. Unable to name what it was, I reached out and took his hand, keeping my face tightly controlled no matter the outcome. I had been preparing myself for contact all week and this moment felt so _right_.

A light shock passed at every point our hands met until it blossomed up my arm and then seemingly all throughout me. I could feel his hand in mine. Was this what rough, calloused hands felt like? I could feel the coldness of winter that seeped through the drafty lodging house, feel the softness of my shirt, the heaviness of my bag of books, the itchy wool of my coat, and the wiggling of my toes in my boots.

It was wondrous.

"Thank you." I told him, breathlessly, shivering as the cold air pulled through my lips and into my lungs. He didn't know I was thanking him for more than his loyalty to me, his weird need to protect and shield me. I was thanking him for this insight, this knowledge of something I had never known.

His eyes searched mine, brows furrowing, trying to understand what was going on with me. "Eden? What's going on? Your eyes…"

How could you feel a person's voice? It was so much better when I could feel the vibrations rumble from his throat, the sound waves carrying to my ears. That alone had me wanting to wrap myself around him and experience everything I'd ever missed out on.

Reluctantly, I dropped his hand and closed my eyes. For a brief moment, the feelings lingered.

And then they were gone.

When I opened my eyes, Spot's face looked serious, "What happened?"

"Please, can we not talk about it right now? I need to get home."

Spot Conlon was going to fight me on this, I could see the confusion, the stubbornness to keep pushing me, but he was smart enough to pick his battles. "Tomorrow, aftah ouah meeting."

"Sure." I replied, dully, moving to walk out the door. Another reason to dread tomorrow.

He let me go without a word, but I felt his eyes on me for as long as he could see me. I sighed in relief once I was closing in on my building. I hurried up the stairs, entered my apartment and crashed on my bed, my bag of books tumbling to the floor. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, the pounding drowning out my thoughts, but not the memory of what I felt as I touched Spot Conlon. I wondered how it was that this had happened, but my mind was sluggish with the amount of energy I had expended walking home.

Briefly, I lifted my shirt to check my bandage. My knife wound was healing nicely, I hadn't ripped any stitches and I was sure the only proof of it in a few weeks would be a slim, silvery scar. Satisfied I was alright, I let exhaustion claim me.

* * *

I stopped at the edge of the Brooklyn bridge. The day of reckoning. How could I feel so horrible when I was going to reunite with my brother? This should be a celebratory meeting, shouldn't it? Families were considered treasured and important. People always said ' _Blood is thicker than water'_ , but the full saying was actually ' _The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb_ '. So, over the centuries people had twisted what the original saying meant in order to get us all to believe that family was the utmost important thing. Whereas, the original saying actually meant that bonds that are formed by choice were thicker than those formed by just being 'related' to someone.

Forcing myself to walk, I scanned the crowds around me, unwittingly listening for the _tap, tap, tap_ of Spot's cane and caguth sight of them before they saw me. Spot leaned casually against the railing, his back to the river, the breeze ruffling his dark, golden hair. I felt a pinch of regret that I had not used my moment of feeling to touch his hair, to run my finger through it and feel how soft it was.

Letting my mind skip over that, I let my gaze slide to Jack Kelly, who was pacing between Spot and the road. Francis had always been a tad wild, even as a child. Exuberant, energetic, and always getting into trouble. He hadn't changed from what I'd heard of him.

Watching the two of them, I realized that I completely understood the original saying. My bond with Spot was stronger because I had chosen to let him in, although I guess it could be argued he'd sort of barged his way in. That thought perked me up a bit as I walked closer to them and Spot saw me first. His eyes traveled over me in that way he often did since the knife fight. Assuring himself that I was alright. I felt a glow of warmth. What was happening to me? I gave him a small nod of greeting, we had agreed early in the week to not let JAck know how much time we'd spent together.

Jack saw me a half a second later and an uneasy grin split across his face, "Eden?"

"Francis…Jack." I replied, unsure which one he preferred.

His grin turned crooked, "Jack, now."

"Alright…Jack." Awkwardly, I reached out a hand to shake his and watched as his shoulders dropped a bit in disappointment as he shook my hand.

I felt nothing as we shook and then he dropped my hand, and cast a glance to Spot, "Can we get some privacy? You already know Spot, right?" Jack asked me, trying to read my face.

Only giving a brief nod, I glanced to Spot, who looked a little irritated. "I'll be right ovah there if ya need me." Spot told me, not even looking at Jack as he walked away from us, in the direction of Brooklyn, but near enough I knew he would hear if I shouted for him. This time when he leaned on the railing, he faced the river and gazed out over it in such a kingly manner I wanted to laugh.

I forced that down as I turned back to Jack, "So, Jack, what can I do for you?"

He was looking me over, "I can't believe it's been so long since Ise seen ya." He told me, eyes the same shade of brown as our mother's. It made me a little sad to remember her.

"Technically you saw me a few weeks ago."

"Did you see me?" He asked, almost excited.

"No." I deadpanned.

He paused to look at my face, "Eden, ya still...still can't feel anything?"

"Why would that have changed?" I asked, avoiding answering it honestly.

He shrugged, "I thought, if you had met someone like ma, you'd…I don't know, be normal again."

I stared at him, uncomprehending for a moment before I stuttered out, "W-what is it you want, Jack?" I was quickly trying to understand what he meant, but I found asking for clarification scared me. Scared me in the sense that he knew something more about our childhood than I could remember.

"I want us ta be a family, Eden." He told me, like I was crazy for asking such a thing.

His words infuriated me, "We _were_ a family until you abandoned me. Nothing has changed from then to now, except your name, _Jack_."

Jack sighed in frustration, a frustration I felt in return as he ran a hand through his hair, "Don't be like that. I'm trying, Eden. I'm sorry foah leavin' ya but it was hard. I was only a year oldah and ya nevah settled down for me the way ya did for ma." He held his arms in front of him, looking at them as if there was something wrong with him and for a moment it tugged at my heart.

He had been only five. What was a five-year-old to do with a little sister who was defective? But, I couldn't change that then any more than I could change that now…my eyes flickered over to Spot, but I pushed that thought away before it was even fully formed. I couldn't rely on someone so much, couldn't hope for someone else to be my antidote.

I was _not_ poison, so there wasn't even a reason to think that.

"Look, if you want to try out this family stuff, we can. But, I don't want you expecting too much. Or too fast. We're not going to figure it out this first meeting, we need to ease in to it." I told him, my voice strong and stern.

"That's 'cause you ain't interested in tryin'. Ya already made up your mind when I did something when I was five, Eden." He accused, and with that I had had enough.

"You only want a _normal_ family! Of course I don't want to try when I _can't_ give you that! Come back and see me when you get your head out of your ass!" Turning on my heel, I left him there on the Brooklyn Bridge.

I didn't look at Spot as I left, I couldn't. I was scared I might have started crying and I didn't want him to see me, or to discuss what happened yesterday. I took off running, hoping he wasn't following me.

 **A/N: Review please!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	9. Chapter 9

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

I didn't pay attention to where I went after I left Jack and Spot on the bridge. I went a little bit out of my way to tell Hoot sternly not to follow me, and then I let my feet carry me, into unexplored parts of Brooklyn and then still further. I had spent many years traveling around Manhattan and then into Brooklyn when I had learned that was where Sue worked. I never had a reason to explore Queens.

Now, I did.

Queens was the largest borough, with neighborhoods with names like Flushing and Richmond. That much, I knew. But, I hadn't realized how diverse the people were, how the buildings seemed to have so much more character than Brooklyn. I found myself pausing more often than not to study certain people as they walked, talked, and worked. I tried to keep in mind as I walked past a few newsies that these kids had all but been sent out as assassins with the target being my best friend.

That thought gave me pause and I spied a small park and headed towards it, taking a seat on a bench beneath a beautiful, bare Elm tree to contemplate that new idea.

Spot Conlon was my best friend.

It was only a matter of time, really, since he was also my _only_ friend. It was enough of an epiphany, though, to throw me a little off guard. It made me wonder how my best friend was dealing with my brother, how he decided to handle Jack's selfishness after I left. Part of me wished I could have stayed and watched, but Spot was a different person when I was around and I hadn't decided, yet, how that made me feel.

"Welcome to Astoria." A voice said, surprising me from my thoughts and I looked up to meet a stunning pair of eyes set into a soft, heart shaped face.

"Astoria?" I asked, rather dumbly.

She chuckled, causing her grey eyes to sparkle with specks of green and blue, reminding me of an opal ring I had seen in a jeweler's shop window. "This neighborhood. It's called Astoria. You look new here."

For a moment, I thought she looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place her face and since I had never been to Queens' before, I let the thought go. "I am." I told her simply, wondering what about me had made this girl stop to chat. She was wearing a no-nonsense black skirt and a pretty, cream colored blouse. Her honey blonde hair was pulled up high on her head, making her look regal.

"Well, welcome. May I sit beside you?" Her voice was light and lilting, not heavy and gruff like Spot and the newsboys were. It was a strange change, but I found myself kind of liking it.

I moved over on the bench, "If you'd like. I'm Eden Sullivan." I told her, unsure how to act. With Spot, it didn't seem to matter that I was awkward and weird given my strange disability. It felt different with this girl.

"Eden. What a beautiful name. I'm Minerva Foster." She shuddered saying her name, "But, everyone calls me Slips." She paused to judge my reaction to the name and then grinned, "Because I slip away from them boys before they even finish their bad pick up line."

"One of the boys I know goes by the nickname Spanky." I offered, trying to keep the conversation going, "Because he used to spank his butt in his sleep when he was little."

Slips laughed, her head throwing back and I heard my own giggle climb its way up my throat. "Oh, I like you." She said when her laughter died down, "I think we could be friends, Eden. Whatya say?"

The way that question rolled from her mouth reminded me of Spot and I felt a small stab of guilt, like maybe having another friend was a betrayal to him-especially one from Queens.

But, I had that gut feeling in my stomach about Slips, and it was a good one, and I found that I liked the bright, shining girl beside me. "I'd like that, Slips."

* * *

Spot gazed over the East River, fighting the urge to run after Eden as he waited for Jack to stop scowling after her and join him. He'd find her later, he inwardly promised himself. She had every right to be angry with her brother, but some part of him wondered if there was more going on. Eden was not usually one to raise her voice or get argumentative. At least in his experience.

Finally, Jack kicked the ground and walked over to him, "What the hell is her problem?" He asked, easing his cowboy hat on his head as he leaned against the railing, back to the river.

The Brooklyn Leader could not help but give the Cowboy a sardonic look, "I think yer her problem, Jack."

"Oh, for wanting a family?" Jack asked, sarcastically.

Spot eyed him warily, "Really? Ya don't see what she's doing?"

"No. Enlighten me, oh great one."

Jaw clenching at his continued sass, Spot barely bit out the only reasoning he could come up with for Eden's unusual behavior, "Ya abandoned her once, what makes ya think she don't expect ya ta do it again? Maybe she's arguing with you ta test ya, see if you'll stick out the hard parts of being a family."

"What do you know of family?" Jack said, snidely.

Spot didn't have time to even register that he was already punching Jack; for that shit thing to say and for Eden. "Figure it out yaself, then, asshole." He spat as Jack grappled to recover from the punch there on the Brooklyn bridge. Spot turned on his heel and left, ignoring the part of him that wanted to continue throwing punches at the dirty bastard, but their friendship saved Jack the soaking anyone else would have gotten.

Angry, restless, and tired from his sleepless night, Spot ditched selling the evening addition to seek out Eden. Looking for the closest birdie, he followed their whistles and bird calls until he found Hoot. The little bird was sitting on a fire escape looking sullen, "She yelled at me. Told me she didn't want ta be followed." He told Spot, morosely.

He pushed Hoot's cabbie hat over his eyes and then sat beside him. "It'll be awright. She's had a rough day. We'll give her a little space."

But, it was more than a little space Spot came to realize as three days passed and Eden continued to dodge him and Hoot. She avoided them simply by disappearing, leaving Brooklyn entirely when she wasn't working on the _Daybreak_. The fourth day came and with it, Hoot brought news that she had found a new friend. A girl. In Queens. Spot felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of someone else getting her time and worse that it was outside of his city. He ordered Hoot to find out who Eden's new friend was.

And then he continued to stew in anger at her continued absence. It made him more restless then ever and he paced around the lodging house like a caged lion. Every single newsboy steered clear of him, not even Spade braved speaking to him. Everyone in the Brooklyn lodging house was on edge and no one seemed to know how to handle it.

It didn't help, either, when, on the fifth day of not seeing her, the Leader of Queens stepped foot onto Brooklyn territory. Spot wasn't surprised after Hoot told him who Eden's new friend was, and so he waited for him to come to his docks.

Catch Foster was not infamous like Spot Conlon. Nor was he as charismatic as Jack Kelly. No, Catch was in his own category of leadership, but he was no less ruthless-for reasons Spot understood a little better now that he knew the leader's secret.

Spot made most of his newsies beat it, keeping only his toughest and most loyal around the docks as Catch stepped foot on the wood boards. The cold wind blew off the East River like daggers, fluttering the dark brown hair that peeked out from beneath Catch's cabbie hat but otherwise didn't seem to affect him. He kept his light eyes on Spot's as he walked right up to the Brooklyn Leader. Spot never tired of the irony of how often people commented on his 'short' stature when Queen's leader was at least two inches short then his roughly five foot eight height. People liked to take potshots at his height because they begrudged his power.

They spit shook as they greeted each other, "Spot Conlon."

"Catch Fostah." Spot paused for a moment, eyeing up the person in front of him with keen blue eyes, "Come ta finish me yaself, like a man?" He asked sardonically, meeting Catch's eyes that were a strange grey, with hints of blue and green-like an opal.

A flicker of humor passed across his face. "If I wanted ya dead, Conlon, you'd be dead." He spoke arrogantly, but Spot knew it was just bluster. Catch had to be kicking himself for his boys' failing.

"So those boys you sent, theyse was lyin' when they said you told them ta off me?" Spot asked, condescendingly as he leaned back on a tower of crates and rested his hands on the top of his cane.

Catch rolled his eyes, "Yes, but that was more…incentive. I knew you could handle it. But, it was also a warning."

"Then why are ya here if that was ya warning?"

Queens' shifted on his feet, "I'm here partly because of that…mishap. Came ta eat some humble pie." A smirk quirked up the corner of his mouth, "I sent those boys in a moment of rash angah...and I didn't think an innocent girl would get hurt."

 _Ah, there it is_ , Spot thought, unsurprised really. Queens was here because of Eden. What was it about her that inspired friendship when most of the time she looked apathetic at best?

Spot remained silent for a few moments as he contemplated the Queen's leader, the sincerity plain on his face in a way that gave Spot a stab of respect. Catch wasn't in the same category of leader as Spot or Jack, but he was different from the two of them because he knew when to admit he was wrong. He certainly didn't let his pride get in the way. Finally, Spot nodded and spoke words he hadn't been entirely sure about, but figured he would test the water with anyway, "A little boidie told me ya sistah got a new friend."

He watched the way Catch absorbed that statement, and was surprised by the quick grin that he flashed to Spot, "She does. I hear she's a mutual acquaintance of yours."

The glint of humor died, though, as Spot stepped closer to Catch, getting right up in his personal space and was satisfied by the tensing of his shoulders and the flash of fear in those strange, opalescent eyes. He lowered his voice so only Catch would hear his words, his eyes never leaving Queens', "Eden is not like other girls, Catch. Ya leave her outta ouah little tiff here and I'll keep ya secret. She gets hurt in anyway by the games ya playin'...I'll let all of New York know the truth. And then I'll be coming foah ya." He realized as that threat hung in the air that he had used his ace to keep her safe, and found he didn't at all regret it. What wouldn't he do for Eden? He wondered briefly.

"Hasn't she already gotten hurt, Conlon?" Catch bit out, jarring him from that thought.

"Because of _you_." Spot spit back as he stepped back.

"Hanging around with _you_." The words implied a fear Spot had never known he had. He had no real close friends to consider one being held against him, especially since he already made it fairly obvious that he held Eden's safety above many other considerations. Including Brooklyn. Spot had never been this stupid, and it was all because of Eden. He felt a wave of anger towards her as him and Catch continued to glare at each other.

Finally, Catch averted his eyes and pretended to relax back a little, "In eithah case, Conlon, it seems we both have similar interests and I'll back off ya...Unless anythin' happens ta Eden." The way her name fell from his mouth had Spot narrowing his eyes.

Spot's intensifying restlessness had him biting out sarcastic words he normally wouldn't have said, "Careful, Catch. That's ya sistah's friend, not yours."

"We're one and the same, in Eden's regard." He replied snarkily, taking a few steps back before inclining his head to Spot and leaving without another word.

Spot almost smirked at those words, but he chewed on the entire conversation until it to settle in his stomach like acid. Without forethought, hee found himself following Catch off the docks and then turning in the opposite direction.

It was time for Eden to stop hiding from him.

 **A/N: Whew. I've had about half of this written since the last posting but I didn't get inspiration until yesterday after talking with Pixielou, who lovingly donated Slips' nickname and her line about slipping away from boys! :) Thank you for the wonderful Guest reviews and the review from coveredinbees14 and day2427! You guys are the best! Thank you to everyone reading and please let me know what you think of Catch and Slips!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	10. Chapter 10

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

He sat on the stoop of her building for a long time, knowing she had to come home at some point. As the sun began to fall lower in the sky, he saw her for the first time in five days and he watched in fascination as she zipped through the crowd in that quick way she walked. Even though he was angry with her for avoiding him, he couldn't help but feel better seeing her whole and unharmed.

He stood up when her green eyes landed on his blue ones, he was surprised at the way they seemed to light up while her numb shoulders stiffened in a move that betrayed her anxiety. It was so strange how disconnected she thought she was from her body while it continued to give away her inner thoughts and feelings, although he knew it wasn't something that would be obvious to anyone but someone who knew her well, like him.

She reached him just as the sun filtered its final rays between the buildings and she stopped in the brightness of one, the golden light bringing out natural red hues in her mahogany hair. He felt a yearning to reach out and touch it, feel the soft tendrils between his calloused fingers. He met her eyes, as green as summer leaves, and prepared himself for whatever she was going to say about her avoidance the last few days.

"I'm sorry." Her face was smooth, as it usually was when she was anything but happy, but the sincerity was obvious. She never lied to him.

He felt the strange urge to pull her in his arms and ask her never to do it again, but instead he nodded his head and said gruffly, "I undahstand." Which was a half-truth, but part of him was still too raw from the hurt of her avoiding him and he didn't want her to know just how deeply it had pained him. It was better to be a little harsh with her than let her know the whole truth.

The whole truth being something he couldn't even face himself. At least not yet. "Can we tawk?" He asked.

Her eyes scanned his face, trying to look for something but he had blanked it well before he saw her coming home. "Sure, come on up." She led the way up to her apartment, silent as she unlocked the door and they stepped through.

It smelled just like her, everything in the exact place it had been when he was here for her books. A new stack of them were beside her small bed in the corner and he watched as she took off her coat and fell down on the mattress, looking more exhausted than he had realized she was.

"I shouldn't have gotten so angry with Jack." She said, breaking the silence as she sat up on her bed and leaned against the wall. She patted the spot next to her lightly, and he felt a shot of hot desire spike in him at the innocent gesture. Was she even aware that she had just invited a man to sit on her bed? He shook his head, trying to dispel the charged tension within him, knowing logically that Eden wasn't thinking along those lines at all.

But, as he sat beside her, he couldn't help but feel the intimacy of the moment. She was only inches from him, not even the closest she had ever been to him but there was something so much _more_ about them being here together on her bed. This was the place she let herself be most vulnerable. Would she tell him her secrets?

"I got angry with him, too." He told her, finally pulling his thoughts from the current situation and focusing on her and the conversation.

Her head tilted to the side, "Why did you get angry?"

He flexed his hand, where the bruises on his knuckles had faded to a soft yellow. "Ise didn't like how he made you run away. Then, he had the gall ta tell me I don't know nothin' about families."

Her astute gaze took in the bruises, "You punched him?" He noticed her fingers clenched in her lap, although she wouldn't have felt them do that, and he got curious about what that meant.

"Yeah." He gave her a crooked grin, "He desoived it."

She looked away, "Maybe…maybe not. I've spent so much time alone…but, he said somethings about Ma that made me curious."

"Like what?"

Eden's eyes widened, as if she hadn't meant to tell him that, and she paused as she sought the words she wanted to say. He waited, expecting her to tell the truth as always and was surprised when she…lied, "Said she kept some secrets from us. I don't know what they were or how he would know since he was just a year older." She didn't meet his eyes, they gazed to the left of her and her voice was flat, as if she read words from a script. And then she changed the subject, meeting his eyes so he knew that this time she spoke the truth, but it only further proved she'd been lying before, "I didn't mean to avoid you, Spot."

"Then why did ya?" He asked, watching now for a lie. Why couldn't she just tell him her secrets? She had said she trusted him.

Her eyes dropped again, "We had spent that week at the lodging house together and I…I just needed a break."

Another lie. Instead of getting angry, he felt a coldness seep into his body. It felt like all the time they had built up trust and friendship was slowly melting away and they were once again strangers. You only lied when you didn't care about how you were hurting the other person, so why was she even pretending to be his friend?

Or, people lied when they wanted something. He felt suddenly suspicious of her and it hurt like a thorn in his heart as he stayed there beside her as the distance between them grew into a huge, dark chasm.

"What happened before ya left the lodging house that day?" He finally asked, testing her answer. He had been replaying that moment over and over again for nearly a week, would dream of her in that moment alone; the way her hand had felt in his own, the way her eyes had lightened to an unbearably beautiful sage green, the way her breath had sucked in as though she was startled, her soft pink lips parting in wonderment. He had just been about to kiss her when she had pulled away.

She broke his heart when she looked away from him and lied again, "Nothing, I just felt overwhelmed by everything you did to take care of me."

He stood, pulling away from this intimate moment that he would have cherished forever had she not ruined it with her lying. Spot silently cursed himself for falling into this mess. She went away to Queens for a few days and now she was lying to him. It felt better to blame Queens than her, felt better to blame that outside enemy than his own stupidity for trusting someone so much.

"I should leave." He told her, his voice icy enough to put frost on the windows.

Her head shot up to meet his, hurt and confusion clouding those deep green eyes, "Do you have to? Can you stay a little longer? I wanted to talk…" She stood, her gaze level with his, and just becoming aware of the distance between them. "Spot, did I say something wrong?"

At that question, his anger, coiled tightly in the pit of his stomach, snapped to the forefront of that coldness as he comprehended that she didn't know her lying was killing him. She didn't know him at all.

He found himself acting out in a way he wouldn't have normally as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, his mouth descending on hers swiftly as he stole a kiss.

But, her gasp at the contact kicked in the sexual tension that he had been repeatedly tamping down for the last few weeks and what was supposed to be only a quick, stolen kiss turned into an all-consuming takeover of her mouth.

* * *

Spot had risen from my bed, his face so tightly controlled, yet his eyes ablaze with what looked like betrayal and I had no idea what I did to cause the sudden gaping distance between us. "I should leave." His tone was so cold, so detached.

"Do you have to? Can you stay a little longer? I wanted to talk…" About Slips. I wanted to tell him about my new friend, about how I had finally met another person who I felt normal around, but clearly he didn't want to hear it. So, I stood and asked him, tentatively, "Spot, did I say something wrong?" I knew I had lied, but how could he know? And what was I supposed to tell him, that I was a freak? That I couldn't feel a fucking thing? How was he going to handle _that_ news?

Before I could even absorb the shift of his face, his arm shot out, and he dragged me to him in a way that was entirely alien to me, yet the moment his lips met mine…

My world blazed to life.

I gasped, surprised at the sudden overwhelming wave of feeling. The arm wrapped around my waist was so warm, his lips soft and prodding as they moved against my own, and the heat and…was this _desire_? It pooled in the pit of my stomach, had me aching and needing for things I had no real knowledge of.

But, I knew I needed more of this, needed to feel more of _him_ , so I clawed his tucked shirt from his trousers and moaned as my hands touched his unbearably warm skin. It was the right thing to do, because he deepened the kiss, surprising me as he gently coaxed my mouth open with his tongue.

His other hand came up and gently cradled my face just as he broke the kiss. He kept his forehead pressed to mine, his eyes shut as he breathed and I opened my eyes to search his face. I didn't want him to let go, I wanted to hold onto these feelings, to know everything normal people felt on a daily basis. I had been too scared of it all before, but now I knew I needed this. I needed _Spot_ and for more than just his steady friendship, his quiet, dry humor, and his very presence which calmed me in a way I hadn't known before him.

Most of all, I needed him for this. He was my connection, my gateway to normalcy. I knew I could never completely feel, but with him…I had a chance. "Spot, I…" I was going to tell him my secret; the words were just forming when he jerked away from me so suddenly, so completely that once again I felt the sting of nothingness. Numbness.

"I have to leave. I can't stay here while ya spill more lies." His blue eyes were wild in a way I had never seen before and I took a step back.

"I'm sorry-"

He shook his head aggressively and turned to leave, "No ya not or you wouldn't have done it. Ya don't lie ta people ya care about…so, maybe ya don't care about me."

Before I could open my mouth, he was out the door, slamming it behind him and jarring my ears as it rang in the silence.

 **A/N: Guys, this chapter caught me completely off guard and it's my current favorite. I hope it's a favorite of all of yours, too! Drop me a review since I updates so quickly!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	11. Chapter 11

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

Spot let his anger drive him to sprint down the stairway and out into the early evening air. He stopped to take a deep breath of the odor-rich city air, and tried desperately to wrangle in his anger. He couldn't go back to the lodging house feeling like this. He had to get himself under control, which had been easier back in the days when he always kept it cool. The times, however, when he lost that control he had always found it hard to get it back. Sometimes he felt too much, he almost drowned in it.

A figure broke away from a building and he recognized it. His anger was too close to the surface, he shouldn't chase her, but he couldn't stop his feet as they took him across the street and he grabbed her shoulder to halt her, "What the fuck are you doing in Brooklyn?" He ground the words out, deeper than normal and sounding like someone else's voice to his ears.

Her opalescent eyes caught the light of the streetlamp and they shimmered eerily in the darkness, "Get your hands off me." She spat, straightening her spine to look taller than her five foot six.

"Are ya stalking Eden?" He asked, ignoring her as he put both hands on her shoulders, "Are you why she's suddenly lying to me? Are you purposely fucking with me?" Anger caused his grip to tighten and he ended up shaking her as he asked those questions. His insides felt black and carnal, rage and despair twining through every bloodstream and organ. It felt as if everything was polluted.

Slips wrenched away from him, but didn't run. She glared at him, heart shaped face pinched and angry, "Look, Conlon, I haven't done a damn thing to Eden. She hasn't even talked to me about you. I just wanted to make sure she got home alright and then I saw you and her go in together and wanted to make sure you left while the night was young."

"What if I hadn't? What would you have done?" He growled, wondering how this small slip of a girl thought she could come between him and Eden. Some small part of him grappled to reel in the darkness, calm himself just a bit.

She got in his face this time, "I'd have gone up there and kicked your ass."

He folded his arms to keep from losing control and manhandling her again and scowled at her, "What the hell is your problem?"

" _You're_ my problem. Men like you always swaggering around with women at their beck and call. Eden is far too good for you, she took a knife for you, and for what?" She stopped to sneer at him, "She's just a novelty to you, the newness will rub off and you'll get bored and leave."

Spot, letting her insults ground him and center himself just a bit, rolled his eyes at her little diatribe, "Sweetheaht, everyone's got a past." He had girls there, but not the legions the rumors claimed. He never promised anything to any of them, they all knew he wanted a break from the loneliness and that was it. Spot didn't let girls get to him. At least, not until Eden. He cast a black look at her apartment building before turning back to Slips, "Eden has kept my interest since I was eleven and that ain't gonna change." As much as he hated himself now for wanting her, he couldn't get the memory of the feel of her lips out of his mind.

"Not everyone has a past like _you_." Slips all but snarled.

"At least I'm not living a lie, like _you_." He said it without thinking, that black feeling still crawling through him.

The Queen's girl jerked back from him as if he'd slapped her. It looked like she'd really lay into him then, but her eyes flickered to Eden's apartment building and she seemed to think better of it, "I'll be keepin' an eye on you." She paused, almost thought better of it, and then opened her mouth and said it anyway, "If she's lying to you, maybe consider that she's trying to protect herself, not hurt you."

Slips, true to her name, slipped away before he could speak and left him standing in the moonlight across from Eden's apartment with a mix of feelings that he now had to go sort through.

* * *

 ***One Day Later***

Jack Kelly left the Jacobs' apartment around dusk, feeling full and all but glowing from the warmth that came with being surrounded by family, a feeling he could only vaguely recall from a long time before they came into his life. It didn't hurt, either, that he got to steal a few kisses from Sarah Jacobs before he left. Although, they hadn't been near as great as the first kiss after the strike ended and the more time he spent with her the more she seemed to fall flat, character-wise. It was strange, like David and Les got all of the attention and no one thought to give her a personality.

He kicked a pebble and reached back to grab his cowboy hat and put it on his head just as a voice interrupted him from his musings, "Jack." Skittery came jogging up to him, a look of amusement on his face, "Jack. Bumlets just saw the craziest thing in Queens."

"Yeah?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. Skittery didn't often smile, so it had to be something good.

Skittery clapped Jack on the shoulder, "Catch, the leader?" He paused for effect, "Bumlets saw him kissin' one of his newsies!"

Jack rolled his eyes, "Shoah he did. Ya guys evah get tired of gossiping?" He asked, punching Skittery's arm.

"He really did!" Skittery grumbled, face dropping at Jack's look of doubt. "Why would Bumlets lie about that?" He asked, defensively.

Jack shrugged, "Good story to rile people up. It's been a little boring around here since the strike."

"You're tellin' me. Ladies ain't interested in hearin' about it anymore." Skittery shook his head ruefully as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Mulling over what Skittery had told him, Jack thought it best to add, "Don't go spreadin' that rumor. Some guys'll go see about roughin' him up and we don't need a borough war like back in the days."

Inhaling his cigarette, Skittery nodded just as a voice called out.

"Jack?" Both boys stopped to see the girl just across the street coming in the opposite direction of them.

"Speaking of ladies." Skittery muttered, jabbing an elbow into Jack's side.

"That's my sistah." The Cowboy muttered, shooting Skittery a side glare, his words causing the usually foul-mood kid to choke on the inhalation of smoke just as Eden crossed the street to reach them, her brown hair swaying back and forth as she walked.

Skittery continued to cough as Eden reached them, her face that strange, set look that always brought to mind those creepy dolls upper class ladies got for their daughters. It had been even scarier when she had been a baby, which was probably why, Jack mused, they had never had a close relationship.

"Eden, what's the occasion?" Jack asked, still upset over the way their last meeting had gone. He had been yelled at by both her and Spot and given a nice shiner. His brotherly fondness for her was lacking at the moment.

She slid those green eyes, reminiscent of their father's, to Skittery and asked, "Can I speak with you? Privately?"

He looked over at Skittery, coughing just subsiding, and jerked his head. "Beat it, Skit."

Glaring at the rude dismissal, Skittery sarcastically muttered, "Nice ta meetchya." Before walking away, down the street to the lodging house.

Sighing, Jack turned back to Eden and was surprised by the slight look of vulnerability, which was a new thing to see on her otherwise blank face. She was quiet a moment, seeming to pick her words carefully, before she opened her mouth to speak, "Jack…I'm sorry. About the way I handled things and then ran off. I've had a lot of…upheaval lately. I didn't expect to feel so many conflicting emotions when we met."

Jack adjusted his hat as he watched her standing there, still as a statue and all but a stranger to him. He had been given five days to think a lot about their reunion and he had begun to realize somethings in that time, too. "I should uh, apologize, too." He mumbled, looking away, "I shouldn't have tried ta force a family bond between us. That's not how it works, apparently." David had really railed at him about that after Jack had told him about their meeting.

Eden was still numb, she had told him, so he was once again shocked to see the slightest smirk quirk the corner of her mouth. "I guess we both know much about this family business. Maybe we could…try it on. For size."

As if they were a shirt or a coat, he chuckled, "I guess we could both use some practice. And hey, at least we'll both be in the dark about how to be a family. So, let's start by what's been going on with you." Jack was curious. He started to walk and held his hand out to invite her to walk with him.

Color heated her cheeks. It was as if her body knew what to do, she just couldn't feel it. He marveled at it as she opened her mouth, "I've been working with Sue. On a small fishing boat."

That would explain her fishy smell, but he smiled as he recognized the name, "Ol' man Sue. You remembah when ma used to leave us with him when she had ta run errands? He just slept there on the couch while we ran wild."

Eden smiled, and he once again wondered at the changes in her. As a child, she only ever looked like one of those dolls, unless their mother held her. Then, she would light up and be completely animated, as if she had come alive at their mother's touch. "Sue was the only other person I could remember besides you and ma. I ran into him by accident three years ago in Brooklyn and he recognized me. I hounded him for a job on his boat after that. He eventually gave in."

Sue was a loner and barely spoke. He liked his fishing boat because it let him work away from the crowded city and he never had to talk to anyone on it. That's what he had told Jack when he was a kid, anyway. In not so many words. Jack being the social person he was, never really understood that feeling. Jack thought it best to surround yourself with people to block out the feelings you didn't want to focus on. "Well, I'm glad he took pity on ya." Jack said, although he wondered what all that isolation on the boat did for Eden. If it helped or hurt her. She used to complain about the noise and the smells, perhaps being all but alone on a boat had been good for her. Given her the silence she needed to stay in the city.

"Jack, I…I was wondering about something you said to me. When we met up last week." The words were slowly, deliberately picked.

"About what?"

They had stopped in front of the lodging house and Jack dug out a nickel from his pocket for his bed for the night. "What did you mean…about someone like Ma?"

"Ya don't remembah?" He asked, astonished.

She shook her head, "Remember what?" Her voice was quiet, as if she hoped too much for the answer and didn't want to startle it away.

"Anytime she touched ya, you felt. Since the moment you were born. When you started tawkin', you'd hold out your arms to her and say, 'feel, mama' and she'd pick ya up and you would look so happy and alive. I just…figahed if ma could make you feel, maybe you could find someone else to make you feel." He paused to give her a sheepish look, "Ya nevah felt when I touched ya. I think I resented you foah it. Aftah…aftah ma died, I tried to hold you and you'd push me away."

Eden stared at him, her dark, green eyes wide at his story, "Why don't I remember that?" She stepped back and stared at the sidewalk, as if concentrating on memories that were deeply buried.

Jack shrugged, "The earliest memory I gots is from when I was…four? Or maybe you were so upset at Ma's death, you buried all the good feelings away. I don't know."

"Maybe you're right." She said, but her eyes looked bleak, "I need to go, Jack. But…thank you. I'll visit soon."

She was already a block away when Jack realized she hadn't even asked about what _he_ was up to. He hadn't realized how selfish she was. He'd have to talk to her about that the next time she visited and then he'd get to tell her all about the Strike he'd won, and his plans to go out west.

Shaking his head, he climbed the stairs to the Duane Street Lodging House, the warmth from the coal furnace blasting him in the face as he opened the door and he smiled as his fellow newsies greeted him.

 **A/N: Thank you to my reviewers, day2467, Pixielou, my guest reviewer, and coveredinbees14! Please review and let me know what you think of this chapter!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	12. Chapter 12

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

My visit with Jack gave me a lot to think about. I know I should have stayed to learn more about him, find out all the things he'd been up to these years we'd been apart, but his story of me being able to feel when Ma touched me…it was disconcerting to hear a story about yourself you had no recollection of. As if you were looking at yourself in a dream, small and just a child, the edges foggy as you begged your mother to pick you up so you could feel _something_. _Anything_. Because without her touch, everything meant nothing.

And then I remembered her dying, her life slipping away after an illness that I couldn't even begin to explain as a child. Her life had been snipped short by the scissors of fate, cutting my only connection to the world with it.

Until Spot.

I couldn't sleep after my visit with Jack. Part of me yearned to find Spot, to touch him once more, for him to forgive me and let me in again. But, it wasn't right, yet. I needed more time to sort through what I felt and what could be done. I had been alone so long; it was terrifying all that he could hold over me. The power he had somehow snuck his way through and ripped from my grasp, as if I knew what holding something felt like.

But, I did. I had clung to him during that kiss as if he were my very life force. The memory of the feelings he invoked had scorched my brain and it was enough that I looked down to see my hands trembling.

When I did fall asleep, dreams tormented me. I chased feeling through mazes of fire, heat just beyond my reach. At every turn I was road-blocked by myself, looking frozen. An Ice Queen version of myself. I hated her.

I woke as dawn brightened the city, the first rays streaming through my window. I made my way to work, intending to work in silence and let my thoughts continue to plague me, however some part of me had another idea. The minute Sue and I had gotten out on the stillness of the water where the only noise was the slapping of waves against the boat, my mouth opened and I found myself finally, _finally_ telling him about my problem.

"Sue, I can't feel anything."

He grunted, tossing the fishing net out, the rope slapping the surface before sinking down, down, down.

I gazed across the water that sparkled in spots. "I literally can't feel anything. This rope? If I wasn't looking down right now and saw it in my hands, I wouldn't know it's there! All those times I cut my hand with the knife we skin the fish with? Didn't feel it."

Sue, who'd been gazing out where he'd thrown the net with his hands on his hips, turned to glance at me, "That's convenient."

I stared at him, "No. No, it's not. It's _horrible_."

He grinned, what teeth he had were a little rotten looking, the space where others had been blackened. "Ya don't feel pain. That's convenient."

He usually said two, three words tops, so that six words strung one after another was surprising, "I don't feel pain…but, I also don't feel anything else."

"Overrated."

I blew out a breath, "To you, maybe. You've spent your whole life feeling everything."

He shrugged, "What I got ta show foah it?"

"Have you always known I couldn't feel?"

Sue raised a bushy, grey eyebrow and finally met my gaze for the first time that morning. His pale, blue eyes almost looked as though he were blind, but I knew for a fact he could spot a school of fish quicker and more closely than most other men who'd lived their lives on the sea. "'Course."

"'Course?'" I asked, "'Course'?! Not of course! This isn't an everyday, ordinary problem, Sue. I literally cannot feel a goddamned thing. I can't feel the breeze, or the sun. It bothers my eyes, but I don't know what people mean when they say they got sunburn. I don't understand how people get hot or cold, I can't even comprehend physical desire…well, I can now but that's only because of Spot." I stopped my rambling as Sue raised his brows at my disclosure.

"Ya felt somethin', Eden?" He asked, so quietly I almost didn't catch it.

I didn't say anything for a moment, letting the soft caws of the seagulls echo in my ears along with the slapping of the waves, "You knew ma made me feel."

"Hard ta forget a little girl asking her mother ta hold her hand so she could feel the water."

My breath caught, a memory from long ago surfacing. Of Ma, Francis, Sue, and me all playing on a little beach. I remembered vividly how frustrated I got as I watched the water rush forward, touch my toes, and I felt nothing. Turning to my mother, I remember reaching out a hand, "Ma! Hold my hand?"

She came over, her oval face bright as she grabbed my small hand in hers and feeling rushed through me as it had when I had first reached out and took Spot's hand. The warmth of the sun on my face, the breeze rushing off the river, the cool water against my feet, counteracting the heat of the summer sun. I laughed, smiling up at her, eyes alight with wonderment. "Feel that?" She asked, kicking her foot up to splash water on me.

"Yes!" I had exclaimed, "It feels…cool, mama."

"That's right! Cold, but not too cold. And the sun, that's warmth." She knelt down on the sand and led my hand to scoop it and rubbed my fingers, "That's what grainy feels like. Sandy. Many words mean the same thing."

I reached out and took a strand of hair in my hand, like I always did when she touched me, "Soft."

She smiled at me, "Soft." She repeated. Elizabeth Sullivan had been the kindest, gentlest soul.

I had almost completely forgot that memory. "Did you love my mother?"

A weird look took over Sue's face, a cross between a deep grief and despair. "Yes."

"Why didn't you take Francis and I in?" I asked, my voice betraying a touch of anger.

Sue shook his head, "They wouldn't let me."

"Who?"

He gazed at me sadly, the net jerking as a school of fish filled it. "They took Francis and you off to the orphanage before I even knew she had passed away."

It was the most words I'd ever heard come out of Sue's mouth and I realized how deeply he hurt over everything, "How come it took so long for you to give me this job?" I asked, because once I had found him, I had badgered him for months.

He leaned over to haul the net in, his back to me as he replied, gruffly, "I couldn't lose you again."

The words stunned me into silence and I slowly absorbed all of this new information. Sue had lived in our building, right across the hall. Ma had told us that he had been an old friend of our father's. Thinking back on that day on the beach, I realized I'd known all along that he had loved my mother. I didn't realize he had loved Jack and I, too.

I watched him closely the rest of the day, surprised that given everything we talked about how easy it was to work as usual together. I hadn't ever thought that people might be scared to give other's a second chance to hurt them, and it made me consider even more the damage I might have done to Spot while trying to protect my secret.

My gut flipped as we reached the docks during the late afternoon and I realized I felt a pressure there, as if my time was growing short to make up with Spot. But, before I did that, a part of me felt as though I needed to go see Slips. In all the testosterone that surrounded me, I felt a girls' opinion on it all might help me just a bit.

I said goodbye to Sue, hoping he could see that I wasn't planning on getting lost on him again, and made my way towards Queens. I knew Hoot would be close behind and a part of me took comfort in that knowledge.

Approaching the first newsie in Queens, I asked him, "Is Slips around?"

"Who's askin'?" He asked, adjusting his newsboy cap as he narrowed amber eyes on me.

"Eden Sullivan."

It was like my name was a magic word that stopped him instantly, "Oh, Eden. Yeah, gimme a sec and I'll go look around foah her. Stay here." He jogged away.

Awkwardly, I stood on the sidewalk and watched people come and go. The amount of noise from the crowded street seemed to overwhelm me to the point I pushed it away until it was a light hum in the back of my mind and I let myself scan the crowd for the first glimpse of Slips.

But, it was Catch who caught my eye, the leader of the Queens boys and Slips' brother. Twin brother, she had told me, but it wasn't as common knowledge among the other borough's as it was here. I was surprised at just how many similarities there were between the two as he approached me. Same height, same heart shaped face, and opalescent grey eyes. For a second I thought it was Slips, but then he took his newsboy cap off and ran a hand through his short, brown hair and the illusion was gone.

"Hey, Eden." He said, a little gruffly as he reached me, "Slips is still at work. Can I help ya with something?"

I felt a sigh leave my lips, unbidden, "No, I just wanted her opinion on something."

He flashed a grin that was almost too similar to Slips', "I may be just her bruddah, but I got good advice. Wanna take a walk and you can fill me in?"

I hesitated, reminding myself that this was the man who sent boys after Spot, boys with knives and intentions of murder. Even if he was Slips' brother, I didn't trust him, and most certainly not when I had planned on talking about Spot. "No, but thank you. If you see Slips and she has time, see if maybe she'll come find me?"

Just as he opened his mouth to agree, his eyes traveled behind me and I turned to look at a group of angry looking newsboys headed our way. "Catch!" One yelled, "We hoid ya goin' around kissin newsboys, fag."

Catch grabbed me, pulling me behind him as the group closed in around us, the crowd falling away as the angry mob began shouting at the Queens leader.

 **A/N: Oh, man. It was a little hard to write that angry mob scene because I dislike hateful words, but unfortunately this would have been fairly accurate of the times... :/** **Please leave me a review?**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	13. Chapter 13

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

"Go." Catch's command was whispered and I barely heard it over the taunting and yelling of the angry group of newsboys, "Run. Find Spot and he'll keep you safe."

"What about you?" I whispered back, "I can't leave you to fight this alone."

He shook his head, ever so slightly as the leader of the mob stepped towards him, "Eden, run."

The leader's black eyes slid from Catch to me, "Just like you to hide behind a woman, _queer_."

Catch's opalescent eyes blazed and he threw a punch that hit the guy square in the jaw. As much as I disliked Catch for the orders he had sent out for Spot, I couldn't leave him to face this hateful mob by himself. Especially not when I thought of his sister as a friend.

Multiple boys jumped on Catch the second their leader fell back from the first hit and I found myself whirling around to protect Catch's back, throwing my own uppercut at the closest boy. He grunted, but it didn't slow him down. He came at me and I blocked blows and tossed my own, satisfaction humming through me when I made a hit.

I lost myself in the fight, unable to feel the hits, the ache of my fists, or the adrenaline that kept me going…

* * *

Spot sighed as he watched Eden step off _Daybreak_ and head into Brooklyn. He was a pitiful creature, hiding behind crates a few docks over just to make sure she was alright. She seemed fine, although it was never easy to tell with her. Her meeting with Jack had gone better than the first time, according to Hoot, and Spot wondered if they talked about her mother.

Slips had given him a lot to think about when she told him off almost two days ago. He had been thinking of the worst possible reasons why Eden would lie to him, but not the simplest reason; protection. She didn't know Spot knew her secret, didn't know if he'd believe her or condemn her if she opened up to him so she had done what she had to; lied. It hadn't been to manipulate him, or because she didn't care, or even because she wanted something.

She had lied because she _did_ care. She was scared to tell him she couldn't feel, because she was scared he wouldn't want to be her friend anymore.

But, Eden was wrong. He did want to be her friend. In fact, the longer he stayed away from her the more he wanted to be…more than friends.

He had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't the only one feeling that way, he thought as he began to walk farther into Brooklyn in the direction of Battery Park. She had responded immediately to his kiss in such a way that he thought there was a chance she _could_ feel. He wasn't sure how, but how else could she have kissed him back? The more he pondered it, the more things started to add up. After she saved him from the kid with the knife, she had snatched her hand from him. Could that have been the first spark? After that, she hadn't let them touch skin-to-skin until the moment before she left the lodging house, when she had reached out and took his hand. She had thanked him so completely, as if he'd given her more than a quiet place to heal from a wound that had been meant for him. As if he'd given her an insight into what it felt like to feel.

It was too much of a ridiculous hope for him. Angrily, he tried to instead think about something else.

Like the rumor he'd heard that had begun to spread about Catch. Some Manhattaner had seen him kissing a newsboy and now the entire newsie population was gossiping about something that could get Catch soaked-even if it was false. Spot felt the urge to smack Catch for drawing attention to himself.

"SPOT!" He was distracted out of his thoughts as Hoot and Jay came sprinting down the street towards him, Hoot's grey eyes wild as he yelled, "CATCH AND EDEN NEED HELP!"

If it had only been the first name, Spot would have raised a cool eyebrow and stared at the little bird as if to say, 'Whattya want me ta do about it?' But, it was Eden's name that threw him into action. "Which way?" He asked, running towards them to meet them half way and Jay immediately turned around and led the way.

They arrived too late.

What looked to have been a mob was already dispersing, some running away, some standing there, staring in shock. At some point during the fight, Catch's cap had fallen off and then, because of the sweat from the exertion of keeping up with the men who had ganged up on him, at some point the wig had fallen off, too.

What fell down was a long stream of honey, golden hair, the locks curling from the sweat and as it fell, the guy who had been exchanging blows with what was supposed to have been Catch, leader of Queens, turned into him soaking Slips, Catch's 'sister'. The attacking newsie halted, his mouth agape as he took in the sight of a girl in trousers.

Eden, wrestling underneath one of the guys, bucked him off of her and quickly rose, only to be distracted by the sudden appearance of Slips.

Spot arrived just as the guy, unaware of the halt of everyone around him, punched Eden right in the side of her head and he felt fury take over as she went down and he grabbed the guy. Cursing, Spot buried the guy in his fists, until he laid on the ground unmoving.

Unconcerned with the sudden flagrant display of Catch's most treasured secret, Spot moved to Eden's side as a crowd of Queens newsies came tearing down the street. "Slips!" One of them, a tall, black haired newsie yelled, leading the way. Spot ignored them as he leaned over Eden.

"Eden?" He had seen her go down hard, so he gently cupped the back of her head to feel for any bleeding.

A hiss split from her lips and her eyes flew open as she gasped in pain and stared up at him with a mixture of surprise, pain, and horror. She jerked away from him, rolling so she was out of reach, "Don't!" She shouted, curling away from him.

"Eden! I'm trying to help." He reached out to touch her only to have her stand and move away from him.

"No, Spot, you're hurting me!" Just as she said this, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him so she stumbled forward into his arms and her eyes shut tightly and he didn't quite understand as she whimpered and tried to pull away. "Let go." She cried against him and he found himself dropping his arms because of how much pain and emotion was behind those two little words.

She sighed in relief as he stepped back, and he knew then that his suspicions were true.

Eden felt when he touched her.

* * *

Spot was staring at me with a strange look on his face, as if I had transformed before his eyes and for a second I couldn't tear my eyes from his blue ones. They bore into me, questions and hope mingling like rain and sleet in March. I wanted to touch him, to feel, needed it like I needed to breath.

But, I couldn't right now. I needed to heal, to not feel the pain I had felt when I had been lying there after the last guy had thrown that punch at my head. I can't believe I had missed it, I had been distracted by…

My eyes broke from Spot's gaze to see Slips, in Catch's clothes-Catch who wasn't real-as the Queens' newsie with the dark hair who had yelled her name reached her and grabbed her to see what kind of damage had been done to her during the fight. The last guy from the mob turned and ran, a few Queens boys running after him. I continued to stare at Slips, betrayal and anger slowly rising within me. Finally, when the newsie had deduced that she was fine except a black eye and a lot of bruises and cuts, she turned to meet my gaze.

She looked at me in resignation, expecting my reaction.

I didn't disappoint her. Every bit of danger I had been in recently had been a direct result of the actions of the stranger in front of me. " _You're_ Catch." I spit out, "And Slips." I added, feeling foolish for being tricked by a simple wig. "This whole mess is so people wouldn't find out you're a _girl_." She had been willing to kill Spot for this secret. My eyes flashed to him at the thought, "And you _knew_."

Everyone around me kept secrets and lied and despite the fact that I kept the biggest secret of all-I was pissed.

"Eden, wait." Spot said, moving towards me, "I woulda told ya if you'd asked."

I narrowed my eyes on him, "But, you knew I was hanging out with Slips, didn't you? I can't go anywhere without a damn spy on me. You _knew_ and still, you didn't tell me."

He ran a hand through his hair, "We never got to talk about Queens. You were too busy lying ta me about ya ma and Jack and the lodgin' house thing…"

I glared at him, "I lied because there's something wrong with me, Spot. Because I didn't think you would understand, but I had been planning on telling you until you ran out. A good thing I didn't, you'd have probably only run further away from me."

"No, Eden. I wouldn't, I don't care about that-"

"Oh, big surprise, Spot Conlon already knew I can't feel. That's why you befriended me, you were just curious of the _freak_. Go fuck yourself, Conlon. You too, Slips. I didn't need friends before and if this is what having one is like, I was clearly better off."

I turned away from the two of them and left Queens.

 **A/N: I should be doing homework and yet, here I am. Thank you to those who continue to read and review! You guys rock. I hope Catch's secret wasn't anti-climatic. I feel like a lot of subtle hints pointed to it but I knew what it was so idk, maybe I'm crazy. Merp. Please drop me a review and let me know your thoughts!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	14. Chapter 14

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

Slips had never meant for it to be a secret. When she first joined the newsies in her neighborhood of Rosedale, it had been to help out her father. At seven years old, Slips had been an uncommonly small child, but she held the adoration of all the neighbors on the street in Queens that she lived with her father. He was a widower, her mother having died at birth, and he raised her in his little shop where he constructed and sold wigs to the wealthy and bald.

Every day at the shop, she would press her nose against the front window and watch as the crowd of orphans and runaways walked passed on their way to the distribution center. Curiously, she had asked her father why there wasn't more girls amid the group and her father had patiently explained that girls were not often treated kindly in an industry dominated by men. As she gazed around at the headpieces her father made, she wondered at how easily it would be to just pretend to be a boy long enough to be able to hawk headlines. How freeing it would be to roam the streets as a newsie, to not have to come home and do chores and learn to sew.

One day, instead of going to play with the neighbor girls, Leslie and Melinda, Minerva Foster decided to try out her idea. When her father wasn't paying attention, she snuck a dark-haired wig from the shop and used it to hide her hair so she could slip unnoticed among the rank of boys. Her father, who was always busy working, barely noticed his daughter's long absences so she continued to do this for quite a few weeks, until the boys began to notice her.

"We always look foah ya when wese done sellin' but we nevah catch ya befoah ya bolt away." One of the boys around her age told her one day, approaching her as they stood in line to get their papes. "My names Louisiana, but most call me Lou." He told her, amber eyes warm and friendly as he spit in his hand and stuck it out to her.

She hadn't been prepared to make a friend, hadn't really been ready with a boys' name, so she grabbed on the first word she could think of that could pass for a nickname, "That's why they call me Catch Fostah." She drawled the syllables of her last name to mimic his accent. He'd grinned and from then on she was one of the boys. Lou and her sold papes near each other, played with wooden swords and marbles, and explored Queens. All of it was much more fun than playing dolls with Leslie or Melinda.

Not long after Slips tenth birthday, she found herself faced with the death of her father. He'd gone to bed early, complaining about chest pains, and when she went in the next morning…Her imaginings of being a real newsie became a horrifying reality.

Not even Louisiana could cheer her out of that first year of sadness, the transition from being a kid to suddenly being an orphan was a dark one for her. She had abandoned the life she knew for a new, scary life, her only real takeaway being the wig that would keep her secret and a box of eclectic items her father had treasured.

But, the wig didn't really keep her secret for long. Puberty hit Slips a little too well, and it wasn't long before the Queens boys knew the truth of what she was. As dumb as boys could be, they knew enough to notice there was a girl in their midst. But, they liked Slips, thought she was brass and funny, so they took care with her and treated her as the little sister of the entire Rosedale lodging house. They even all pitched in to help her with buying a few lady clothes. But, Slips wasn't stupid and selling as a newsgirl didn't yield as much of an income as being a newsboy so she kept up her ruse.

She kept it up even when Ducky, the then-leader came to her and told her he liked her spunk and wanted to see her lead the boys when he left. It was Ducky's idea for her to have two personas for the other boroughs. He even went so far as to take Slips dressed in her best dress to one of the newsie get-togethers, explaining that she was Catch's sister and he had stayed at the lodging house with a fever but that he'd be the next leader so the others better keep a distance from her.

It was at that first get-together that Lou had jokingly told a Manhattaner that they called her Slips because she slipped away before Racetrack could finish that bad line of his.

It had all gone down too well, really. She had grown up with these boys, and despite the gender swap, they loved and respected her and her opinions. She had often thought of her father's words on men not treating woman kindly in a male-dominated profession. It wasn't the case with the Queens newsies.

Slips sighed as Eden all but ran from them, her life up until this point flashing briefly in her mind as she turned her gaze to Spot Conlon, her unlikely ally in this. "What are we going to do, Spot?" She asked.

Spot Conlon's blue eyes were trained on Eden until she disappeared into the crowd, the calculating gleam already there as he watched her. Absentmindedly, he answered her, "I'm figurin' what I'm goin' ta do, but you got much bigger fish ta fry, Slips."

She nibbled gently on her lower lip, her eyes immediately seeking out Lou's warm amber eyes and he gazed at her in open concern, "Don't worry, Conlon, Queens will always protect our own." He told the Brooklyn Leader, a promise blazing in his eyes as he kept them on hers.

Reaching out, she placed a light hand on Lou's arm and then turned to look back at Spot, who hadn't missed their moment, but he looked away as if he had. Spot Conlon didn't like others knowing how much he observed. Slips didn't like how much he was learning about her.

"I will ready my boys for whatever storm will come," She said, her rough accent dropping as she got comfortable being herself, "but, I'd like to know if Brooklyn will have my back?"

Spot stared at her with a blank look as he weighed his choices, "Brooklyn would…for a price."

She couldn't stop the roll of her eyes, "Of course, there's always a price with you. I wonder what it cost Eden? Oh, that's right. Just a knife in the side."

"Better than one in the back." Spot shot back and Slips turned away from him instantly so he couldn't see how deeply his words cut. Again. Damn, that boy had a tongue quicker than a bullet.

"Just go. If I need you, I'll stop by and you can name your price." She finally said, glancing back at him.

He nodded once and left, not even casting them a backwards glance.

"The other boroughs will know by this evening." She told Lou. He was her second, her best friend, and coincidentally the reason that mob had shown up. He hadn't been able to keep from kissing her in public two days ago, causing someone to see and spread the gossip. Even so, she found she couldn't be mad at him. Instead, she felt relief that soon all of New York would know. She had long since grown tired of hiding and Spot's jab about living a lie had hit the nail on the head in her case.

She squared her shoulders as she looked around at her boys, "Let them come for me. I'll be ready."

* * *

By nightfall, my anger had already cooled. Towards Spot, not Slips. It annoyed me that logically, I couldn't really be angry with him. It was true that our interactions lately hadn't given the opportunity for us to discuss my new friendship with her or for him to tell me Catch's secret. Slips' secret. Ugh.

I roamed Brooklyn, finally finding a nice spot on the roof of a building overlooking the East River. My ears picked up the light footsteps before the creak of the fire escape. It was quiet for a long time and I sighed, "You gonna come sit beside me or creep around back there?"

Hoot was suddenly clambering to mimic my pose, tossing his feet over the edge and sitting his butt down right beside me. He grinned up at me and I couldn't feel it but I thought I must have smiled back because his grin grew wider. "I'm glad you ain't mad at me, Hummin'bird."

"I'm glad you're here, even though I yelled at Spot for always spying on me." I told him, "You're my only friend right now, kid."

His face got serious and he looked down for a few moments before looking back up, "Just 'cause you'se mad at Slips and Spot doesn't mean they ain't your friends. I argue with Spanky all the time but at the end of the day, we got each othahs back."

I sat there and absorbed that, my thoughts turning to my first meeting with Spot. Even then, when he was a stranger, he offered to have my back. Well, for a price, but he had readily admitted that particular flaw of his. He never lied to me, was there when I went to meet Jack, and took care of me every day after the knife fight. He had punched Jack, and had made it a little obvious how much it hurt him that I avoided and lied to him for five days. Yet, even after our fight, after I lied to him, he came all the way to Queens to have my back.

That warm, hum of happiness spread in my gut and I tried not to remember that kiss, but it came unbidden to mind and I replayed it. I felt like my mind was trying to tell me something about my feelings for Spot, the way I needed him and felt when I was around him, but I couldn't put a name to it.

"Hoot?" I finally asked, breaking the silence and turning my head to meet the little bird's grey eyes, "Will you be my spy? Let me know how Spot is doing the next few days? Just until I'm ready to see him. I promise anything you tell me would never be used to hurt him."

Hoot looked a little torn at the prospect of tailing the King of Brooklyn, but hesitantly nodded, "I can do that, hummingbird. Only for you." He added those last words as he grinned up at me.

"C'mon, let me buy you a treat before I send you on home." I told him and together we climbed down from the roof and headed towards a small candy shop a block and a half away.

Later, with chocolate smeared down his chin, Hoot told me, cheekily, "Bribery is the best."

I heard myself laugh, glad I had the little kid to cheer me up, at least for a little bit. All too soon, though, we came upon the Lodging House and I kept back as he went towards it. He stopped on the stoop and waved before going inside. I heard the laughter and talking of the boys from where I was but not the voice I wanted to hear. Slowly, I turned and headed home with my mind in a whirl. I had forgiven him so easily, and now all I wanted to do was seek him out but my pride whispered to wait. Make him sweat for just a day or two. Wait to hear how he was doing from Hoot and then, and only then, go see about making up with him. It seemed silly, though, and the conflicting emotions wore me down until I finally crashed, exhausted, onto my bed.

 **A/N: I put up a picture for this story that looks just how I pictured Eden, let me know what you guys think :) I'm excited about all the feedback from you guys on Catch/Slips' secret! I'm glad I surprised you all! I'm working on the next chapter in my head, so probably won't be too long of a wait! Thank you SO much to all of my reviewers. I will thank you all individually as soon as I get time! Please review!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	15. Chapter 15

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

Hoot kept his word about updating me on Spot. The day after the Queens incident, he told me Spot hadn't slept much, the boys whispering about how he'd paced around the Lodging House most of the night, like the wild, restless man I always figured he was, although I'd never glimpsed that side of him. I wasn't really too surprised to hear this news. There was something about Spot Conlon that was inherently untamed.

I was surprised to hear he hadn't been eating much. On the second morning, Hoot showed up right before Sue and I set out for the day and assured me he'd passed off an apple to his stubborn leader, as well as some cheese and bread. Whether or not Spot ate it was another matter. The food had disappeared, but the bird never actually saw him eat it. I blew out a frustrated sigh as I waved good bye to him.

Sue and I didn't talk much after our last conversation, but it was clear that we had grown a tad closer, our work becoming more fluid as we worked together to cast out our nets. The work was monotonous enough that my brain could think about much more while my hands did the work. Mostly, I worried about Spot. He couldn't avoid sleep and food because he thought I was mad at him. It was downright idiotic. What was he thinking? Did he really think he did something that couldn't be forgiven? It didn't make me feel sympathy for him, it made me angry.

When work was over, I headed home. It was better than going to find Spot and giving him a piece of my mind about how he was acting. Perhaps asking Hoot to keep tabs on him wasn't the best idea…those thoughts scattered when I saw Hoot standing out front of my apartment building. "What's wrong?" I asked, sprinting to reach him.

"Spot went to visit Jack. They drank together, and now he's drinking alone." Hoot looked uncomfortable telling me this, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"Where is he?" Drinking on an empty stomach was a really smart idea. What the hell was wrong with him?

"The docks."

"Fuck." And now he was drinking by the river? It was a sure way to fall in and drowned. "Go home, I'll go save him from himself."

The order came out sharper than I meant, but Hoot seemed to gain confidence from it and straightened his shoulders. "Yes, sir…er, m'am." He told me, grinning at his slip and then running away from me before I could say anything about it.

For the second time that day, I blew out a frustrated breath and turned towards the docks.

* * *

Spot wanted to follow and fight Eden the very day she found out Slips' secret, fight with her until she saw reason. But, his gut told him to give her time to cool off and she would see that there really wasn't a reason to be mad at him.

If she didn't, well he always had a plan b.

Two days after the Queens incident, Eden was still pretending their entire friendship had just been a bad two months, so he found himself heading towards Manhattan. Heading towards the one person that might have a chance of helping him repair his relationship with her.

Jack Kelly.

The Cowboy did not look pleased to see him leaning against the front window of Tibby's when he came by for lunch. Annoyed, Jack waved David and Les to go into the restaurant ahead of him and he folded his arms across his chest as he looked anywhere other than at Brooklyn. "Whatya want, Spot?"

Spot pretended to look relaxed as he glanced up and down the street, "Calling in a favah, Jack."

That surprised Jack, and he dropped his crossed arms to put them in his pants pockets, "Oh, well in that case what can I do foah ya?" He asked, partially sarcastic.

Spot quirked an eyebrow, "Ya sistah's mad at me, need ya help ta get her ta tawk ta me."

Jack narrowed his brown eyes, "If she's mad at ya, she probably has good reason."

"She doesn't." He shot back, arrogantly.

Scoffing, Jack tipped his cowboy hat to a pretty girl who walked by, flashing her a toothy smile, before turning back to Spot. "Look, Eden and I are new at this whole family thing but I'm pretty shoah I ain't supposed ta con her into forgiving you."

"Ya seem ta think you have a choice about whethah or not ya help me. It's called a favah, Jack, but you owe me. This is what you can do ta repay one of those debts." Spot was in no mood to deal with Jack's pretty talk. He had Jacks' back in the past, and Jack had to have his now.

Jack squared his shoulders, standing taller at Spot's words and getting angry and defensive, "I don't know what ya angle is with my sistah, but I'm not so shoah I like it. How about, ya leave her alone and wait for her to come to you."

"When I touch her, she feels." Spot spoke the words slowly, letting the bomb he dropped on Jack sink in and was not at all surprised when Jack moved to pin him up against the window. Lucky for Jack, Spot foresaw this and quickly sidestepped Jack and spun around him to dodge out of his reach.

"Why the _fuck_ would _you_ make her feel?" He spat out venomously, continuing to try and grab Spot.

Spot stopped moving in order to get in Jack's face, "What do you know about her mothah?"

Jack stepped back, surprised, "Why would she talk ta you about ouah mothah…" He stopped, realization dawning on his face and it pissed off Spot that he was coming to conclusions first, without letting Spot in on it.

"What?" He demanded.

The Cowboy reached up to run a hand through his hair, forgetting his hat was on and knocking it off as he did so, causing it to flop against his back as he slouched and thought. Spot felt that restless feeling that had been a permanent part of his being until he first talked to Eden stir as he waited for an answer.

Instead of answering, Jack simply said, "Let's get a drink."

It was afternoon, but Spot didn't argue. A drink sounded good to him, although he had never been big on drinking to excess. He was too much to handle on a good day, he figured being drunk would only make it worse.

Even as he thought that, he felt a stirring of rebellion against taking it easy. He'd been careful with Eden and still, she was mad at him. The only time he let himself get carried away had been with that kiss…and that kiss had been a life changing one.

Jack led him into a little hole in the wall bar, nodding at the bartender as if he'd grown up in the place, "Hey, Bill. Get us two scotches, will ya?"

Bill narrowed his eyes, "Took ya three weeks ta pay off ya last tab."

"Yeah, yeah, but I paid it." Jack told the guy, "Can we get drinks?"

The man harrumphed, but poured them the drinks without another word. Jack and Spot both climbed on a stool and took swigs and Spot inwardly winced as the cheap liquor burned his throat. "So, what's goin' on, Jack?"

Jack took a second swallow and sighed as he glanced over towards Spot, "Eden only evah felt when Ma touched her. Sue told me when I was little that it was 'cause of the bond between a mothah and child." He cast Spot a dark look, "Clearly, that's not the only reason."

Spot felt a curious wave of possession and satisfaction at the thought that only _he_ made Eden feel. No other average Joe was going to come by her and swoop her away. "It wasn't always like this, though." He found himself telling Jack, "I touched her a few times before the knife fight—"

"Knife fight?!" Jack asked, turning sharply towards Spot.

Spot shrugged, "Happened befoah you two met back up. She…she took a knife foah me."

Jack glared, "Why would she do that? When did you guys get so close?" His tone was sneering, and he sounded jealous and petty.

Spot ignored it, knew Jack had always had a selfish streak in him that got in the way far more often than he even was aware of, and for once Spot found himself telling Jack the full truth, "Remembah that party we went to, the first time we drank?" He smirked as he swigged the scotch, waiting for Jack's affirmation.

"Barely." Jack muttered, also taking a sip.

"Ya told me about Eden that night. About everything. Abandoning her, her unable ta feel." He paused, "I got curious and looked for her."

For once, Jack's face fell flat and unreadable as he asked, "You been stalking my sistah for six years?"

Spot shrugged, "Stalking is such a harsh word."

Jack snorted, "But it's accurate." His eyes narrowed as Spot waved it away, "So, when did you start…tawkin'?"

This was the part where Spot hedged a little with the truth, "Well, we ran inta each othah on the docks when she got off work one day and started palin' around."

"When you were supposed ta be tellin' me ya found her."

Spot shrugged again, knowing it would annoy Jack and he was pleased when it caused the Cowboy to scowl. "Look, Jacky-boy, I told ya I found her. It was just aftah I was shoah she could handle meeting you."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Like you're her keeper. She's been livin' on her own s'long I don't think she needs ya."

Spot finished his drink, feeling the liquor hit him a little harder since he hadn't really had an appetite lately. "Been alone and without friends or family. I think I'm exactly what she needs, Jack." With those words, he found himself leaving, too angry with Jack and his selfishness to stay and chat.

His buzz stuck around until he made it back to Brooklyn, but then he remembered Eden still wasn't talking to him so he headed to the Lodging House, grabbed a bottle of bourbon one of the boys had stashed under the floorboards, and headed back out to the docks. He got the creeping sensation he was being watched a few times, but he was too angry, too restless, his mind too turbulent to focus on anything except the numb, oblivion that alcohol could provide.

Half the bottle later, with the sun just setting and the stars starting to appear, Eden's light, quick footsteps brought him from his mind and he turned to the left to watch her walk down the dock towards him.

She stopped about two feet away, her green eyes traveling over him and he had the urge to stand but the dock was swaying beneath him and his head was swimming with the bourbon and all he could do was stare at her, so achingly lovely in the soft twilight.

"Eden." He breathed her name, but she could hear over the slapping of the waves and he felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach as a small smile pulled the corner of her mouth up.

Eden stood still, regarding him as if she wasn't quite sure what to do about the situation, before she finally sat down across from him, took the bottle from his hand and tipped it back as she gulped a bit of the liquor. She put the bottle down between them and made a face, "That is just awful."

"Nobody drinks alcohol for the taste." He told her, pulling one of his legs towards his abdomen and resting his forearm on it. "How'd ya know I was here?"

"Hoot's been keeping an eye on you for me."

Not a lot surprised Spot Conlon, but that statement did and it caused him to chuckle, "Turned the tables on me, hmm?" He watched through hooded eyes as she took another swig, as if for every truth she told, she had to drink. That thought made him smirk, "How about for every question we answer truthfully, the other drinks?" He was probably already too drunk, but he couldn't let this opportunity slip by.

Eden looked a little wary, "I'm not sure that's a good idea on the docks. I've never been drunk before…"

"How about for every answer either of us answers honestly, I drink?" He amended, unable to stop the silly grin.

"Deal." She didn't even know she returned his smiles so much easier now, after all the time they'd spent together.

"Are ya still mad at me?" He asked, unable to stop the question from coming out before she could ask one.

It was silent as she gazed off towards the river, "No."

He sighed in relief, took the bottle from her and took a gulp, not even feeling the burn of it anymore. When Eden was around, she soothed his soul. As if he were a wild creature who had finally come home.

"How long have you known?" She finally asked, her voice just a touch vulnerable as she avoided his eyes and gazed up towards the stars.

Spot Conlon took a mental picture of her sitting there, chin tipped up, the stars ablaze above them. This was the moment, he realized as his soul softly whispered, _this is THE one_. As if there had ever been another one. "Since Jack and I drank for the foist time when wese was eleven."

Eden absorbed that, her eyes finding his, "That's why I recognized Hoot from before we met." This wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. "You've known my secret this entire time." She murmured, reflecting inwardly on this.

"Do I make you feel, Eden?" His question brought her back to him and she shut her eyes tightly before opening them to meet his eyes.

"Yes." Her face tightened, as if this bothered her.

That look bothered him. "Why?" He asked, too drunk to elaborate that he wasn't asking why he made her feel, but why it bothered her that he did.

"I don't know. I…have a theory that we have a connection? But, that's all it is." She looked so uncomfortable, so uneasy, that he found himself scooting across the wooden boards to be right in front of her.

"No, why are ya upset I make ya feel?" He needed to understand, to soothe whatever problems she felt about him, to reassure her she could trust him.

She looked taken aback and he thought his question surprised her so much, that the truth spilled out, "I'm scared."

Without premeditating his actions, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap and she gave a gasp, her body shuddering as it absorbed the sudden rush of feeling. "Spot."

"Shhh." He murmured, stroking her soft, dark hair, "Just let yaself adjust. It's scary, but it's worth it."

Slowly, he felt her body relax into his, her head settling on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck. Her breath tickled lightly against his skin as she sighed blissfully, absorbing the cool night air, the bite of winter still crisp and apparent as the river threw the wind at them.

"Dominic." He whispered after awhile.

She moved her head just a touch at the sudden name, "What?"

"That's my name and my biggest secret. So, now ya know mine and I know yours."

"Dominic." The way she said his name was like the most beautiful song he'd ever heard and he tightened his arms just a touch around her.

"My muddah was a catholic. St. Dominic was the patron saint of Astronomers. She loved the stars. Used ta take me ta the roof of ouah building to gaze up at them every night before bed."

Eden gently pulled away from his shoulder so she could look up at him shyly. He could just make out the sage green of her eyes by the light of the waxing moon. "What a lovely memory."

It was the only lovely one he really had from his childhood. Her death, followed by the constant hunger, loneliness, and homelessness had all but killed any other memories that might have had a semblance of happiness. "This one outshines it." He said the words before he even knew he thought them.

A blush rose in her cheeks, and she let out a squeak as she brought her hand up to feel the heat there, amazement plain on her face as she gazed at him in shock.

She was too much, he decided, and he dipped his head down to capture those lips like he'd wanted to do since the first time they'd kissed.

 **A/N: Ahhh. All is right in the world now that everything is well with them. This completes the first arc of the story, I'm super stoked to get into the second. Everyone's secrets are out and they have to scramble to find out how to deal with everything! Eek! Exciting! Thank you to my guest reviewers, Pixielou for being awesome, Kit Auralee for her descriptive reviews, and day2467 for her good taste in shipping Lou and Slips, and for everyone following, reading, and favoriting! I'd love to hear from all of you, but I'll take what I can get! Review and tell me what you think of this chapter!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	16. Chapter 16

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

For anyone else, sitting on the docks at night, in the middle of February, would not have been so romantic. For me, it was the most amazing moment. I found myself eagerly kissing Spot back, the sting of liquor on his breath not even fazing me. The warmth of his body being all that I needed against the cold wind off the river. That, and the rush of hot desire. It curled through me like smoke, reaching every inch of my body from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. It drowned out my other senses, the noises of the city and left only the heady scent of Spot to linger in my nose. It even overpowered the aches of the fight from two days ago, at least until Spot gently took my lower lip between his and sucked on it, accidentally catching the cut that was there. I whimpered at the pain, not used to experiencing it, and he pulled back just enough to look at me. Slowly, be brought his hand up to cup my cheek and gently brush his thumb along my bottom lip and the tiny cut, "Wasn't thinkin'." His eyes, usually such a light blue, were darkened with his own desire. It made my breath catch, the way he looked at me.

I leaned into that rough palm, closing my eyes as I soaked up the feelings he gave me before I felt a strange convulsion run through me and I opened my eyes as my teeth chattered together. Was this…what being cold felt like? It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. How did I ever think just a coat would keep me warm from the bitter winter?

Spot was instantly rubbing my arms up and down over my coat, "Ya shiverin'. We need ta get ya home." He moved, attempting to stand, but I was still in his lap where he had put me and I toppled backwards with an audible 'oof'. "Eden!" He said, just a tad gruffly as he leaned down to check on me and ended up losing his own balance.

He was surprisingly heavy, and he grunted as he landed on me, his knee digging into my thigh as he tried to catch himself but only succeeded in hurting me. "You're a mess." I mumbled, gasping as his elbow jammed into my ribs which still ached from the fight from two days ago, "Ow, Spot." I almost swore as he grappled to get his bearings and get off me, but the liquor slowed him down and I ended up laying there until he stilled.

The falling and friction of our bodies together warmed me and I could feel the cold air as I sucked it in in short, sudden bursts. This heat of desire was so potent, so consuming, that my brain fogged a bit and I felt what I imagined being drunk was like; brain swimmy and disorganized, everything around you devastating in its intensity and the world not quite in balance. My breath caught as Spot turned his face, his eyes still dark in the moonlight, and his lips brushed gently across my cheek.

I turned my head, catching his mouth before he could pull away and I felt a sound climb up my throat as his hands tangled themselves in my hair. My mind blanked, for once no thoughts-just all of these feelings. His tongue swirled deliciously against mine, his fingers trailing up and down my neck like licks of flames. This boy knew what to do with his mouth and I eagerly followed his lead, my hands slipping up under his coat to feel the velvety skin of his back, muscles hard and twitching under my fingertips. I felt so incredibly high on Spot Conlon and everything his touch gave me. I shivered as his lips trailed down my neck, his tongue languidly tracing a tender spot I didn't know existed and then…my body pressed up against his in such a surprising, unfamiliar motion that I found myself freezing beneath him. Reality slamming down like an angrily closed door.

He stopped, too. "What's wrong?" He asked, his voice so much deeper than usual. I slowly took my hands from him, bringing them up between us and gently pushing his shoulders away until he rolled off me, "Eden? Whatsamattah?" His voice was husky as he sat up beside me, no longer touching me, and my ears enjoyed it very much as my numbness tingled back over my body and my mind tried to catch up with my rapid heartbeats.

I rolled away, measuring out my movements in the usual way, with my ears and eyes rather than with the sense of touch that eluded me with him out of reach. I sat up and avoided his gaze, "Give me a minute." I mumbled, soaking in the numbness in a way that I never had before. This. This was familiar. This was normal, sane, Eden. This was the comforting scents of my apartment, this was _safe_.

Yes, feeling was terrifying and perhaps it was worth it.

But, numbness was all I knew.

Embarrassment, shock, and a weird sense of shame filled me as I realized I had just had a man lying on top of me. Late at night. On the _docks_. I stood swiftly, "Listen, we're good I just…need to get home."

His brows furrowed as his sharp, blue eyes watched me, but he didn't move to stand as I started away from him. "I'll…see you. Around." I saw my hand wave vaguely and headed down the docks, putting as much distances between us as I could, sure my face was just as red as when he said those sweet words to me.

I paused at the end of the docks, unsure. He was still drunk, still on the docks and far too close to the water. I found myself turning around, going back. He was still sitting where I left him, his face withdrawn. He didn't even look up as I came back.

"Let me help you back to the Lodging House." I said, uneasily reaching out a hand to him.

He met my eyes and reluctantly took the proffered hand. Once again, feeling spread from our point of contact until it reached every corner of my body. I tried my best not to immediately drop his hand, not to bolt and run away from the overwhelming _everything_ that came with being around him.

Too many years alone. I felt a deep pool of insecurity that I had never known almost drown me as he stumbled a bit, but caught his balance and leaned on me just a touch. He cleared his throat as we started walking, his arm around my shoulder to keep him from falling into the river. "I don't really apologize very much. But, uh, I'm…I'm sorry." He stumbled on the words just as he did on an uneven plank, "I didn't treat ya like a lady back there."

"I didn't act like one." I said it sharply, slightly angry at myself, "I'm…" I trailed off, unsure of how to voice what I felt but we were just starting over and he needed the truth, "This is a lot for me to deal with, Spot." It was my turn to trip a little as we got away from the docks and hit the cobblestoned road.

"I don't need help. I can get to the lodging house on my own." Spot muttered, pulling his arm away and digging his hands into his coat pockets. I had to stop in order to adjust my walking as I became numb once more. He looked grumpy, as if the night hadn't turned out quite as he wanted it to.

I began walking beside him, although he cut me a scowl, and tried to make him understand, "Spot." He didn't look at me, so I continued to talk anyway, "You're the first person I can remember who's made me feel. I need time to deal with this. Can you imagine what it's like for me? One moment one way, the next suddenly drowning in all of these emotions and feelings at once? And this…this attraction to you. I've never needed anyone else and suddenly…" I stopped, too embarrassed about everything I laid out there for him to reject.

He didn't say anything for two blocks, and I wondered if I had made things worse. When we reached the lodging house, he stopped on the first step so he was a little taller than me, and glanced inside at the glowing, warm oil lamp still lit on the front desk. "I undahstand, Eden." His voice wasn't as sharp, but he was obviously not happy.

"See you tomorrow?" I asked, hesitantly.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired, grumpy, and just a tad rumpled. It would have been endearing if I hadn't known he was frustrated with me.

He was realizing he'd need to be patient with me. Spot Conlon was not a patient person.

I felt a black, bleakness grab ahold of me. What if he decided he didn't want to wait around until I could deal with this all? I wasn't any good at being attached to another human, I barely had any experience and most of it I was learning from Spot, who didn't seem all that good at it, either. A week spent in the lodging house showed me just how alone he was, even surrounded by all his boys. How was he any more qualified at dealing with emotions than I was?

"Tomorrow." He murmured, his blue eyes tracing over me slowly. "Wait here for a second." He said, as if something occurred to him. He disappeared inside for a few minutes before he came back out with Tuck. "Tuck's gonna walk ya home. I don't like ya out this late."

I nodded, smiling at Tuck, who grinned at me as if he knew something I didn't.

Spot leaned in to tell Tuck something and the boys' smile disappeared and he gave Spot a grim nod, "Yessir."

I raised an eyebrow as he came down the steps and we began our walk to my apartment. Towards the end of the block, I turned my head to glance back and I wasn't surprised to see Spot still standing there. He wasn't watching us, though. His head was bent, his eyes trained on the ground as he contemplated something. I wished for a brief moment that I had the power to read his thoughts rather than not being able to feel.

* * *

Sam Hudson did not like the dark. Even at nineteen, he couldn't fall asleep without some kind of light in his room, usually a small candle. His father had railed and hit him time and again for this weakness, but all it did was cement his fear of the darkness. It was where his father and his minions hid, tempting the weak to indulge in the hypnotic, numb feelings that drugs induced. It was there that his father would hit him, when he didn't have to face his son in the light. His son who resembled his late wife so strongly that he'd barely given him a passing glance in the six years since her death.

He kicked a pebble as he turned down the alley next to his apartment building, his tall height allowing him to grab the ladder to swing it down before deftly climbing up to the fourth floor window that he always kept unlock. His father would kill him if he ever knew, but Sam couldn't have cared less. He was going to be getting out of here, soon. He could feel it in his bones.

Half an hour later, half asleep with his candle burning merrily on the table beside his bed, he heard the door of their apartment bang open, "SAM!"

Trying to ignore his father's angry shout, he turned over, pretending to sleep through the door slamming, grunting, and cursing. "Boy, ya bettah not have that candle going…"

Sam just heard the angry mutter in time to blow out the candle before his door swung open. They were lucky, really, that his father could afford a two-bedroom apartment. They were a luxury few could afford and he'd seen enough families of eight or so people, sometimes two families, crammed into tenement housing that had at best one bedroom. Sam treasured his privacy because so few were as fortunate as him.

"Ungrateful boy." His father muttered, grabbing him with his huge paw of a hand and pulling him out of his bed to toss him on the floor. "One of the othah men stepped forward about unrest in the newsies. When Q asked me about what you'd heard I had nothing to tell him!"

Sam gasped as his father sunk a fist into his abdomen, the air rushing out so fast he couldn't even reply to those words. He tried to roll away, hoping he could make it out the window before the interrogation that seemed imminent started.

And if there was one thing he didn't want to do, it was to give away Slips' secret.

"Whatya know about the little brat in charge of all ya street rats?" Alvin Hudson asked, grabbing Sam before he could make it to the window, swinging him back and slamming him into the wall, "Ya old enough ta join Q, yet ya still running around with those kids." He sneered, his coffee brown eyes flashing in fury. He always threw it in Sam's face that he was still only a newsboy, still selling papes at nineteen, barely making enough money to contribute to his living here. Especially when Sam was old enough now to join Q's drug ring. They'd been having this argument for just over a year and still, Sam fought his father every step of the way. It never seemed to work out in Sam's favor. Granted, he wasn't a part of the drug dealing, but he spent the majority of the time battered and bruised from his father's wrath. And now, he was beginning to wonder if the beatings were worth his freedom. If maybe a life of being a drug hustler was better than one of constant pain.

A memory of his mother came unbidden to mind, her fragile looking body thin and aged more than it should have looked for an Asian woman only twenty-nine years old. The opium she had so frequently smoked numbed her mind, had painted bright colorful hallucinations across it rather than the darkness of their reality. She had chosen the drowsy euphoria of her drug world over her family, over her son.

Sam closed his eyes against the onslaught of his father's fists and painful memories. No, he would not seduce other people to that horror, to that un-world that robbed them of what life truly had to offer…not that he knew what happiness was. But, it had to be out there. It had to be more than this apartment and his father. More than the drugs and the greed.

It had to be more than a mother making her little boy promise to protect a man who only ever hurt him.

His father stood, gave him one last kick to the ribs, and left Sam there on the floor in the fetal position. He paused in the doorway with his back to his son, his breathing the only sound in the darkness that Sam hated. Finally, he spoke softly and without remorse, "In the morning, ya gonna tell Q everything about what's goin' on with the newsies. And you're gonna finally pull ya weight around here."

"Yessir." Sam murmured after he spit out the blood that had filled his mouth, listening as his father's footsteps receded. His voice was flat, just barely biting back the sarcasm and hate.

Silently, there in the darkness he wasn't sure he'd ever come to terms with, he made a vow to himself. He wouldn't heel to Q or his father. His days of being a punching bag were over. Let them think he would obey, let them think he wanted to join, that he could be commanded. But, he would know the truth. As they planned to use him, he planned their downfall.

Sam Hudson was not going to turn into his father, no matter if the cost was a broken promise to a dead woman. He knew he couldn't save this monster he lived with, but he still had time to save himself.

 **A/N: So sorry this took as long as it did. Work and school decided to pick up and then I hated what I originally had and ended up re-writing most of it thanks to advice from Pixielou! I truly do not know what I would do without you, dear! :D I also wanted to make sure I knew mostly where I was going with the second arc before I posted this! Quick thank you's to my lovely reviewers day2467, my Guest reviewer, and of course Pixielou! I loved hearing how you all liked their makeup scene! Please drop me a review!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	17. Chapter 17

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

Slips was surprised when Midnight asked to speak with her before the circulation bell rang. He nervously fiddled with his hat as she passed Lou her pape money and she followed him into a nearby alley as newsies flooded the distribution center. "Whattya say, Midnight?" She asked, leaning against the brick wall, bending a leg and pressing the flat of her boot on the wall as she folded her arms and watched him.

Midnight was named such for his black hair, the straight, inky strands a little long and falling into his eyes as he continued to twist his cap in his hands. Slips had actually been the one to name him, he'd been a newsie for a few years already when she joined, but unlike the others he had a home to go to at night so they hadn't nicknamed him. But, Slips had been accepted and nicknamed her first year selling even though _she_ had a home to go to for a while and if there was one thing she couldn't stand it was when things were unfair. So, Sam Hudson was deemed Midnight and even though he had about three years on her, he was one of her closest friends.

"I, uh, I gotta quit sellin'."

For a moment, she didn't comprehend. When she did, she launched from the wall, dropping her folded arms in order to stand up taller, "What? Why?" She asked, surprised by how much she hated the idea of not seeing one of her favorite newsies every day. "Don't tell me it's cuz ya too old, ya still could pass for fourteen or fifteen, even given ya height." She told him, sternly, watching as he stepped back from her. Sometimes when she was angry, her boys found her a tad intimidating.

"My dad's training me ta take ovah the family business." He told her, looking nervous.

"Your dad." She repeated, hatred boiling in her gut. She had never met Midnight's father, but she recognized the signs of abuse that were in his muscle memory. The way he flinched at loud noises on the street, or shied away from dark alleys. All her boys had come to her about various hand-shaped bruises they'd seen on him, every one of them he told her was from a territory scuffle. "What's the family business?" She asked, eyeing him skeptically.

"He owns a bar."

"I didn't think orientals owned bars." She found herself saying, agitated, "Opium dens, sure." She waved her hand, and tried to ignore the hurt that flashed across Midnight's face at her jab.

"I toldja I don't like the term orientals." He mumbled, as he placed his hat on his head, "But, my dad's not Asian. He was born and raised in Brooklyn, but we live in Queens now."

Slips ignored the mention of Brooklyn, trying not to think of Eden, and hid her surprise at this new information. She hadn't realized Midnight was mix-raced and she felt a strange sense of pity for her friend. He looked too Asian to avoid the inevitable racism that would come from the patrons of the bar, and he seemed too far apart from his Asian heritage to be accepted there, either. Her poor friend was somehow caught in the middle of two worlds.

"Where was ya mothah from?" She asked, quietly.

"Her fathah and her managed ta get outta Vietnam befoah the French made it French Indochina." He kept his gaze from hers, "Her fathah died befoah they made it to America and my fathah took advantage of a lost, lonely immigrant. He married her, but she didn't know what she was gettin' herself inta."

Gently, Slips placed her hand on his arm, "I'm sorry, Midnight."

Lou jogged over at that moment, his arms full with both their papes, "Done tawkin'?" He asked, his eyes snagging on Slips' hand on Midnight's arm.

Midnight caught her hand before she could pull it away, "Thank you, Slips." He squeezed it gently, before nodding at Lou, "See ya around, Lou." And he jogged away from them without a look back.

Louisiana's amber gaze followed his retreated back, a scowl on his face as he turned back to the Queen's leader, "What was all that about?"

Slips rolled her eyes at his open jealousy and took her papes from him, "Midnight's quittin' the newspaper business." She told him, bumping Lou with her hip, "C'mon, street rat. We got papes ta sell."

Lou grabbed the arm that wasn't carrying papes and stole a quick kiss, "Awright, now let's go sell papes." He replied, grinning when he caught the slight dazed look on her face.

The look cleared up fast, though, and she wagged a finger at him, "Don't forget what happened the last time you kissed me in public, Lou."

"It's been three days, if anyone wanted ta come foah ya, they wouldn't bide their time, now would they?"

Slips glanced around uneasily. Although she was still wearing her Catch disguise, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was building up around them, "Maybe they know I'm on guard and they're waiting for me to relax." She murmured to Lou as they headed to their selling spots.

"We'll keep an eye out. If any newsies are comin' foah ya, we'll know about it first." Lou told her, and she relaxed a little. That was true. Her boys hadn't ever failed her and they weren't about to start now.

* * *

Quentin 'Q' Barclay gazed down at his pocket watch, his eyes tracing the initials on the front. F.Q.B. delicately etched in the silver, a constant reminder of Birdie's own delicate fingers when she first gifted him with it on their one-year anniversary. It hadn't even been the best gift she had given him that day. He remembered the way her deep, chocolate brown eyes had sparkled up at him as she told him she was expecting…

"Q?" Jerry interrupted the memory as he poked his head into Quentin's office, "Alvin's brat is here."

Quentin gently pressed the top of the pocket watch so the spring mechanism inside popped open the tiny door and showed him the face of the watch. _Late_. He snapped it shut, tucked it into his pocket, and slowly raised his head to train his eyes on Jerry, "Well, Jerry? Send him in." He moved from perching on the edge of his desk to the chair behind it, settling in for the meeting to come.

Jerry looked uneasy, as most people did when Quentin Barclay looked at someone with his vivid green eyes. It didn't help, either, that his shaved head made him look like a freshly escaped convict. But, Quentin liked it that way. It was much easier to push around his men when they were scared and unsure of what he might do next. Jerry disappeared from the door and was quickly replaced by a young, Asian kid.

Raising one dark eyebrow, Quentin propped his boots up on the desk and stretched his long legs before crossing them on the ankle as he leaned back and studied Hudson's kid. Sam was his name, if he remembered correctly. He also had some ridiculous newsie name but Quentin couldn't remember exactly what it was. "Sam, was it?" He asked, his voice rumbling in the small room.

"Yes, sir." Sam mumbled, avoiding Quentin's eyes as he fiddling with the newsboy cap in his hand.

"I hear you have some information on the newsies." Quentin made it a statement, testing the waters a bit as he watched the boy. He'd been a newsie for more than a decade, would feel a kinship, a loyalty to them that superseded his father and their operation. Especially because Quentin knew that Alvin had a tendency to punch things when he drank and he drank every night at his bar. Quentin only let that slide since they passed a lot of drugs through that little bar and it was never short on those willing to buy.

Sam looked like he was nervous, "Catch, the leader, got into a scuffle with some guys."

"Right." Quentin drawled that one word out.

The boy flushed, "Slips, his sister, was dressed up like him. She was the one in the scuffle, not Catch. Now, all the othah boroughs think Catch is a girl."

"The Foster siblings?" Quentin inquired.

"Yeah, that's right."

"Hmmm. I don't know if you recall, Samuel, but I was looking for a little girl by the name of Minerva Foster about six or so years ago." Quentin paused, "However, she didn't have a brother."

"Theyse twins, sir." Sam murmured, his head dipping as though he were being submissive. Or lying.

But, Quentin was smart, "No, I don't think they are, Samuel." Slowly, Quentin rose and pulled a chair out of the corner and placed it across from his desk, "Come, sit and tell me the truth." _Or I'll make you tell me the truth_ , Quentin knew those unspoken thoughts had been heard when Sam slipped into the chair, his knuckles going white as he gripped his hat.

"Awright." He said, finally, "Slips and Catch are the same."

Quentin hid a smile of satisfaction as he returned to his seat, "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He asked, rhetorically. "Do you believe she's Minerva Foster?"

Sam shrugged, "No one knows Slips real name…except maybe her friend."

It was silent a moment, "Which friend would that be?"

"Eden Sullivan."

Every muscle in Quentin's body twitched at once, but he remained frozen. "Eden…Sullivan."

"Yeah, she's a strange girl that lives in Brooklyn that Slips befriended. She probably knows all a Slips' secrets 'cause, ya know, girls and stuff." Sam shrugged, nonchalantly, unaware of Quentin's sudden interest. "They'se havin' a fight, but knowin' Slips, she'll go to try and make amends."

Slowly, Quentin rolled over this new information, his mind quickly trying to solve a few things but he felt that it would be best to get all the information first. He knew where his mouse was hiding, unaware the cat stalked closer, so she wasn't going to bolt any time soon. She would stay where she was safe until he was ready to deal with her. Now, though, he had a new interest to look into. "You know, Samuel, your loyalty to Slips was commendable, but you also have the common sense to know when you're up against a wall. I think that should be rewarded. Perhaps, my new assignment for you will make you feel a bit more inclined to take a second look at what you could gain by joining in your father's footsteps. I wish I'd a chance to know if my son would have or not."

Samuel's eyes grew large as Quentin told him exactly what he wanted of him and then he sent him on his way. After the door shut behind him, Quentin once again pulled his pocket watch out of his pocket, his eyes once again tracing his own initials as his thoughts turned to days when it had been just him and Birdie…

 **A/N: First off, I can't remember who but I told one of ya'll Spot would be in this chapter and I'm sorry! I lied. I hadn't realized my side characters were gonna take me on a journey outside of Brooklyn. Spot and Eden will return for the next chapter, though! I just had to come here and set up a few things and I know it's a little short but I updated fast, yeah? ;) Thank you to all my lovely reviewers! I'm pretty sure I replied to everyone of you, but thank you all again! Drop me a review to let me know what you think of Q!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	18. Chapter 18

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

The next day must have been uncommonly warm for February. I noticed as I headed to the docks that most people weren't as bundled up, a few men even going so far as to roll up their shirt sleeves. I felt a stab of envy, wishing for a moment that Spot was here so I could feel the warmer temperatures, tried to imagine what they felt like next to my memories of the bitter cold of the night before.

It was startling how quickly the seasons could shift. I think most people could feel the coming of spring in the air with this one warm day. It made me feel optimistic for the future, imagining more now that I had made connections. Invisible strings now connected me to Sue, Spot, and Jack. They made me feel more human, more alive, than I had ever really felt before. Even despite my current anger at Slips' betrayal, there was still that link, that initial liking of her and it brought to mind the third day I had met up with her.

She had looked as lovely as ever, leaning against a tree waiting for me, golden silk hair piled up on her head, wearing a lovely brown skirt and blue blouse under her winter coat. Her face had lit up, her opal eyes dancing with glimpses of green and blue, as she saw me in the crowd. She lifted a hand to wave me over and I thought maybe I had been grinning.

"Eden, dear, you are quite fetching in trousers." She had commented, no snark or sarcasm apparent in her tone, completely honest.

I had glanced down, and then back up to meet her gaze, "You could borrow a pair and we'll start a new fashion trend." I told her, teasingly.

"Outrageous. I'm keeping you as my friend!" Slips had replied, laughing merrily before hooking her arm through my own, "Let's go cause some trouble."

"I'm not used to causing trouble." I told her, quite serious.

Slips grinned, "Don't worry, I am. I'll teach you my ways."

She had proceeded to lead me through Queens, stopping to tease a few of what I had thought had been her brother's newsboys and every one of them had played along with her. As if the entire borough was her very best friend. Seeing her relaxed amid the boys had made me ache to be back at the Lodging House with Spot, where I had just gotten comfortable with my Brooklyn boys.

It was as if Slips and I were two of a kind. I had never felt that connection with any other girl. Remembering that day made me miss her. A part of me already deciding to forgive her, if she ever came asking for my forgiveness. Sighing, I reached the fishing boat to see that Sue, too, had foregone a coat, so as soon as I climbed on board, I shed my own. I was eager to get out onto the water, if only to rush the day along until I could see Spot.

The first half of the morning went by quickly. I kept my thoughts on work at first, but with Sue being such a terrible conversationalist, I found them quickly turning to deeper things. Like the reality of how quickly my life had shifted. Or perhaps it wasn't so quickly, but it hadn't given me any warning. It was like one moment I was all alone and in the next I was picking up friends by the handful.

Spot was the small spark that had gone on to light up my whole world. I was beginning to acquit him with the birth of this change in my life. Our first meeting had a defining moment. Everything prior to him was the Before Spot Eden, the cold, numb ghost girl. Every moment since was the After Spot Eden, the girl who had friends and feelings. Who played in the snow with a little boy named Hoot and who got into two fights this year already.

I leaned against the side of _Daybreak_ , the waves lulling me into a trance as Sue worked silently on the other side of the boat. Before Spot Eden had been lonely, I discovered as I watched the sunlight bounce off the surface of the water, dancing along the sides of the boat and along my arms. I hadn't realized how very lonely that existence was until I put it up alongside my new life. It made me ache for that past version of myself, who had inwardly scorned the part of me that yearned for connections, unaware that what I ridiculed was the very thing I had needed all along.

Being an outsider looking in on everyone else had worked for me. Until the day it didn't anymore. It almost frightened me to go back to that existence, although I knew in my heart Spot wouldn't let me. Strange as it was, Spot Conlon had let me in closer than anyone else last night. I knew from our time spent together that his gesture of presenting me with his name had not been done lightly. Spot did not do things lightly. If he had let me in, he would not let me go so easily. For someone who had been abandoned, I treasured that specific trait of his. It gave me an answering, vicious loyalty to him that was stunning in its intensity.

It gave me a warm feeling in my chest and I was glad that, although I had gotten a little skittish, I hadn't wrecked the entire evening. He still wanted to see me today.

Just thinking that had my gaze straying to gauge where the sun was in the sky and then towards shore where my heart was currently hawking headlines. I felt nervous, giddy excitement build up inside me at the thought of seeing him again.

It only got worse as Sue called it a day and we headed toward shore. Still a few miles out, I counted the docks till I got the ours and my heart stuttered as I caught the lone figure waiting there.

* * *

He skipped selling the next day in order to catch up on sleep, but he made sure he was waiting on the docks when Eden and Sue pulled in late that afternoon. It had seemed even in sleep his mind had continued to ponder their time together the night before. His dreams had been darkness and green eyes, fire and ice. He had been pulled back and forth from both overwhelming extremes that, piece by piece, he had begun to realize what had spooked Eden. To go from complete numbness to hot desire, it was staggering to imagine the shock those two contrary feelings had placed on her.

She had seen him well before he could pick out what boat was _Daybreak_ and a becoming grin was already in place as they pulled the boat up to the dock. It kicked his heart in an interesting way to see her face in the brightness of the day, and he knew he could be patient if it meant she kept smiling at him like that. He didn't really know _how_ to be patient, but for her, he would try.

He felt his own grin dance along the edges of his mouth as he stretched out a hand to help her onto the dock. Unlike the first time he had stood here, the day after they had cut their first deal, she took it without hesitation. He watched in fascination as her pupils dilated, the irises lightened to that sage green, and her smile grew. These were signs that she had regained feeling and he took careful note of them.

"Oh, it is warm today." She exclaimed, closing her eyes briefly as the breeze threw her hair around. Her hand unconsciously squeezed his lightly, and he squeezed it back, enjoying her look of delight as she opened her eyes and beamed up at him.

Despite the fact that the newness of what he made her feel could be stifling in its intensity, at least based on her skittishness the night before, he could see she felt a vast amount of pleasure to be around him. She seemed to savor every little feeling he took for granted, her hand reaching out to fiddle with a strand of her hair, her other gripping his like a lifeline.

"It is." He agreed, before tugging her hand and saying, "Come with me."

"Where?" She asked, breathlessly, as he towed her along by their clasped hands.

"Everywhere." He told her, his mind racing at all the things he had been half dreaming and half thinking about since they separated the night before. He wanted to watch her experience everything she had spent so long missing out on, he wanted to be impulsive and share in these moments with her-just the two of them.

Her laughter caused him to pause. He turned to look back at her just in time to watch her throw her head back, hair streaming down her back, her green eyes sparkling with amusement, "Slow down, Spot." She said, pulling on his hand, "We'll go everywhere, just slow down."

He found his feet listening to her command, relaxing his speed and allowing her a second to adjust to his pace, her feet stumbling just a bit as she felt them hit the ground. But, she quickly adapted, her strides becoming sure and steady, just like her. He marveled slightly at her as she tucked her hand in his elbow and smiled up at him in such a way that he felt as though there weren't a city full of people around them.

"Now, where did you want to take me?" She asked, her other hand running along the softness of his worn shirt, stroking the fabric absentmindedly.

That gave him an idea, "Just a few more blocks." He told her.

Nodding, she switched subjects as she removed her free hand from his arm and let it run along the brick wall of one of the buildings they passed, "How was your day?" She continued to slide her hand along everything they passed, feeling the cool metal of a fence, a paint-chipped wooden door, and the smooth, polished marble of a statue out front of a building full of law offices.

He wanted to tell her that it was absolutely dull up until he was with her, but instead he grunted, "Awright. Yours?"

"Oh, you know. Sue is such a chatterbox, I barely got a word in edgewise." She told him, causing him to grin at her sarcasm. Why was it so easy with her? Easy and carefree, like paling around with Race but a hundred times better because it was Eden.

He stopped in front of a building and she looked up at it, "Really?" She asked, "Are they gonna let two street rats in this place?"

"Until they kick us out foah not buyin' nothin'." He told her, grinning and pulling her up the steps and into the small clothing shop. It was definitely more for those from the upper neighborhoods, like Brooklyn Heights, but the man behind the counter said nothing as they walked in. He merely gazed at them steadily over his newspaper, his face neither welcoming nor discouraging.

Spot pulled her down the first aisle that was filled with examples of dresses they tailored for each patron, the colors bright pastels for the coming spring, the materials running from silk to cotton. He threaded his fingers through hers, and watched as she hesitantly reached out her free hand to run it along a bright, yellow dress.

He was surprised by how much he enjoyed watching her eyes flutter shut as she stroked the fabric between her fingers, "Spot." She murmured, opening her eyes and gazing up at him, "Is this silk?"

Chuckling, he shook his head, "That's just cotton. Here." He reached out to grab a green silk dress by the skirt and held it towards her.

She gasped, "Oh, it's so soft." She brought it up to her cheek and he felt a strange, warm euphoria fill him. Peaceful. He could spend every moment with her and not get bored.

Something towards the back caught his eye and he tugged her hand, "They'se have fur." He told her quietly, feeling as though they should whisper in the quiet store.

"Fur?" She asked, looking at the dark, brown muff that he stopped her in front of. "Animal fur?"

"Feel it." He ordered, grinning as she once again reached out as though it would bite her. As soon as her fingertips made contact, she gasped.

"Oh!" She pressed her whole hand onto the muff and laughed, "This is even softer!" Eden smiled up at him, her sage eyes bright and merry as she added, "Thank you."

He couldn't stop himself from dipping his head down to kiss her lightly on the lips and he smirked as a flush rose up her neck and then they were both startled by a stern voice behind them, "If you're not buying, please leave." The man from the front counter had followed them and was glowering at them unpleasantly.

Spot smirked but he nodded his head at the man and steered them out of the shop, his mouth curling into a bigger smile as he watched Eden run her fingers over the line of clothes they passed until they were back out onto the street. "Thank was fun. What else can we do?" Eden asked, so happy and open that she garnered attention from most of the people they passed.

"What have ya always wondered about?" He inquired, curiously.

"Well…I've always been curious about swimming. But, as nice as it is, it's still too cold for that." She murmured, her finger tapping her lower lip, distracting him just a little bit.

"Foist _real_ nice day, we'll swim with the boys on the docks. They won't let ya drown." He told her, just as she pulled up short.

"Hoot?"

The little bird, who was selling the evening edition, looked up at his name and immediately came running over to them. "Hummin'bird!" He exclaimed, running towards her and wrapping his arms around her middle.

She grunted as he made impact, her hand tightening on Spot's as her other arm wrapped around the young kid. Spot glared down at Hoot for a second before he looked up and watched the play of emotions across Eden's face; surprise, wonder, and then such a look of open adoration he felt the tiniest bit of jealousy. He ignored it, though, because he was too caught up in the way her face softened and her hand tangled in the boys' dark hair. "Hiya, Hoot." She murmured as she one arm-hugged him.

He pulled back his head to grin up at her, "The boys's all tawkin' about you softenin' up the boss."

Spot wanted to glare, but Hoot's words caused Eden to laugh so suddenly he found himself only halfheartedly glowering at the little bird. "I ain't bein' softened up." He told Hoot as Eden laughed.

Hoot let go of Eden and stepped back, eyeing the two up, "But, you ain't nevah held a goil's hand befoah, Spot."

That made Eden laugh again as Spot lifted his cane up threateningly, "I've held hands befoah. Just not in public." He added that last sentence grudgingly, eyes narrowed on the bird, "Dontcha got papes ta sell, kid?"

Eden reached out to ruffle Hoot's hair, "Can I buy one from you, Hoot?" She asked, hand going into her pocket.

Spot gave Hoot a threatening look and he wisely understood as he stepped away from Edens' outstretched penny, "On da house, Hummin'bird." Hoot told her, handing her a paper and ignoring the penny.

"Oh, no. I can't take one for free, Hoot." She dropped her penny in his shirt pocket, took her paper, and then pushed his cabbie hat over his eyes before casting Spot a reproving look, "Quit trying to intimidate your newsies to give me free papes."

Hoot took his hat off to grin up at the two of them, "I gotta go back to my sellin' spot, see ya latah, Hum!" He gave her one more quick hug before he was navigating the crowd back down to his corner.

"You tell them boys ya ain't softening me up when we get back ta the lodging house." He told her, sternly and was pleased when she laughed merrily. Being patient with her new feelings was a much easier decision when he got to hold her hand all day and make her laugh.

 **A/N: So, a bit of fluffy Spot/Eden time with a little bit of Hoot! Yay! Not a whole lot of development but I thought you deserved to see Spot get excited to show Eden new things! Drop me a review!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	19. Chapter 19

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

Sam felt anxiety roll in the pit of his stomach as he stared up at the building in front of him, squinting as the late afternoon sun reflected off one of the windows and nearly blinded him. In his head, he rehearsed everything that Q had told him and in his hand, he held a brass key that meant either his freedom or his captivity.

Despite what he had to do now, he felt just the tiniest bit of gratitude to Q for one thing. He'd gotten him out from under his father's thumb. Sam would no longer have bruises and he could keep a candle lit all night. He didn't have to worry about paying rent and he was being paid as though this was a real job. It all felt too good to be true. It was, of course, he knew that, but for now he'd enjoy this small taste of luxury. A little time on his own, spent doing whatever he'd like when he wasn't keeping an eye on Eden, would be good for him. Maybe let him taste what a life he could have if he got away from the drug world he was born into.

Tucking his new key into his pocket, he picked up the two crates of clothes and personal items, and crossed the street to his new home. He hadn't expected to see her right away so it surprised him when a voice called out, "Hold up, let me get the door for you."

Eden Sullivan hurried forward and pulled the front door of the apartment building open for him.

"T-thank you." He stammered, startled at her kindness as he went through it. He had seen her not too long ago, but he had forgotten just how pretty she was, and her voice was deeper than he expected.

"Do you want me to help you carry anything?" She asked, her head tilting just the slightest but otherwise she stood oddly still. Her face was set in a strange, apathetic look that took him slightly off guard.

He shook his head, "No, I think I can manage. I'm only a floor up."

"Oh, me too. Are you new here, I don't recall seeing you around?" Her face was still set, but her eyes glowed with a warm, friendliness that made him relax and all but forget about the lack of emotions on her face.

They began ascending the stairs together and he shifted the wooden crates so that he could peek over at her. "Yeah, I just moved ta Brooklyn. Got a job down in Flatbush and my Uncle owns this apartment building and said there was a vacant apartment."

"Lenny's your uncle?" She asked, and he felt another wave of anxiety as he tried to explain why he didn't look a thing like the man when she added, "I hope you're easier to get along with. I'm afraid Lenny gives me a lot of grief for being a young girl living on my own."

She stopped in front of her door and Sam tried to think of a way to reply to that, "Uh, let me know if he gives you grief and I-I'll tell him off."

Chuckling, she pulled her key out and stopped, "Oh, how rude. I'm Eden Sullivan. Welcome to the building." Her face had relaxed and there was the hint of a smile hovering on her lips and it was so cute, it felt as though he'd been kicked in the gut by a horse.

"Seth. Seth Barclay." He told her, barely remembering that Q had told him to use a different first name and offering up his last name in case Eden mentioned a Sam Hudson to Slips. It seemed unlikely to Sam, but he had agreed to it nonetheless.

"Nice to meet you." She said, sincerely and he was stunned by how kind and friendly she was. She made him think of the familiarity of Slips but without the brass attitude of the Queens Leader.

"Nice to meet you, too, Eden." He replied, before setting his crates down in front of his door. It was just offset of being right across the hall from hers so he could keep tabs on her comings and goings. He pulled his key out and listened as she entered her apartment and shut the door.

Slowly, he slid the key into the lock and turned it. He pushed the door open and glanced inside, taking in the fact that it was small, but clean and bare of any clutter. Light from the setting sun's last rays streamed through the window and he used his foot to kick his crate of clothes inside.

A gnawing sense of guilt was beginning to grow and replace his anxiety as he shut the door behind him and leaned against it to contemplate this new problem he had unwittingly created. When Q had asked him of Slips, he hadn't wanted to tell him her secrets. He had known all along she was the Minerva Foster he had been looking for.

But, he had tried to deflect Q's interest away from Slips…to Eden. It had seemed to work at first. He'd seen the interest spark in Q's eyes, but it had not turned him from Slips, only brought innocent Eden into the mix.

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin as his window opened and Q Barclay, himself, slid inside as though he were a young man in his twenties, not his forties. "Samuel, how did it go?" He asked, not even breathing heavily as he leaned on the window ledge looking at him expectantly.

"Uh, well? I told her I just moved in. That my name was Seth Barclay." He shifted, always nervous around Q. His reputation was of ruthlessness, but he had a way of pretending to be your friend, putting you at ease, before gutting you.

"Not even twenty minutes into your new home and you already met the girl. What great fortune." Q rubbed his hands together, a look of glee in those bright, green eyes as he gazed around the apartment, "Well, looks like you'll be settled in soon. I want you to find out everything about this Eden and bring me the information in a week. Sound good?"

"Yes, sir." Sam replied automatically as a knock sounded close by. He turned to peer through the peephole.

Though the peephole was a tad distorted, he could see Spot Conlon leaning casually on Eden's door frame as she opened the door. He'd recognize the arrogant king anywhere, had heard from Slips that Eden was a friend of his. His breath caught, however, as he could just see the sudden change in facial features. In seconds, her face went from the still, doll-like look to one of utter happiness as a huge smile split across her face. He watched in fascination as she hugged Spot before pulling him into the apartment.

Slowly, he turned back to Q. But, he was gone, the window still open.

* * *

Spot grabbed the top book from the pile beside Eden's bed and let himself fall on her mattress as he opened it up to look through it. "Didja wanna go get some grub?" He asked, eyes caught on the pretty, dark blue cover covered in constellations. The title was _Astronomy by Observation: An elementary Text-book for High-schools and Academies_ by Eliza A. Bowen. He opened it up and skimmed through a few pages before he got to one with constellations in the night sky.

Eden had hung a curtain up in the corner and was changing behind it, "Yeah, that sounds good. I'm off tomorrow, did you want to go visit Jack with me?"

"Sure. Did you pick this up cuz of me?" He found himself asking, even though she couldn't see what he meant.

But, she had already finished changing into one of her simple dresses, this one a dark maroon, the neck modest, the skirts falling to her ankles and her black boots just peeking out. She turned her head sideways to catch what book he had and then she came over to sit beside him. Peering over his arm, she looked at the page of constellations he had open and he watched as her eyes dilated and her face relaxed at being near to him, "Yeah." She murmured, sitting so close to him he felt his breath shallow just a touch and his lips tingle to feel hers on his.

"Why?"

Her shoulder lifted into a shrug and she didn't turn her head to look at it. She could feel it. She looked up at him and his breath nearly caught at how adorable she was as she answered him, "Because after you told me what your mother named you and why, I was curious to learn more." She turned those light, green eyes back to the page and reached out to touch the page with her hand. "I've always liked the smell of books. But, they feel so lovely, too." He grinned and closed the book, catching her hand inside of it gently and she pulled her hand back, "Oh, that wasn't nice!" But, the cheeky smile she gave him made him feel just as playful.

"Tell me, Eden, since ya haven't evah felt…I'm guessing you've never been subjected ta torture?" He asked, setting the book aside and half turning on the bed to confront her.

Eden gave him such a droll stare, "Really, Spot? Are you going to torture me?"

The dare in her words brought a devious half-smile to his face as he reached out and tickled her right side, amused when she jerked and let out a shriek of laughter, "Oh, yes, Eden. I'm going to torture you in the second-best way."

She made to move but he grabbed her and pinned her to the mattress so he could tickle her sides until she was screaming with laughter and saying, "Mercy!"

"Ya not supposed ta thank me in French." He told her.

She struggled to get out from beneath him, "How do you know French words?" Her curious question was followed by more laughter as he continued to tickle her.

He chuckled as she squirmed and slowly stopped her torture enough to reply, "I sometimes sell papes ta a French lady and she always says 'merci' whenever I hand hers ovah." He paused, "At least, I hope she's thanking me and not swearin' at me."

Eden laughed and the sound distracted him for a moment and he missed her hand sneaking out to mimic what he had been doing and he jerked in surprise as she tickled him. "Aha! Spot Conlon is ticklish, too!" She exclaimed, once again trying to get free from under him, clearly intending to get retribution.

She was strong from the three years on the fishing boat, hauling in nets full of fish, but not stronger than his years brawling on the street. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head, "Oh, no ya don't."

He was closer to her now and he felt her heart beat, already quick from the tickling, start to speed up as her breaths shallowed. He wanted to kiss her, if only because it was so obvious how much she wanted him to, but he felt a tinge of fear. He didn't want to scare her away like last time. Not that he'd let her get far from him this time, he wasn't drunk and on the docks. If she got spooked, he'd follow her to the ends of the world.

Slowly, giving her ample time to say whether or not she didn't want it, he leaned closer. Her pupils dilated even more before her eyelids fluttered shut and she raised her head to meet him halfway. Such soft lips, he groaned against them. For a girl who'd only been kissed by him, she was good at it. Most girls let him do the work, let him coax their cold lips, but Eden met him with a curiosity and abandon that could not be compared to any other girl.

He felt his grip on her hands relax and she pulled them from his to touch him, her hands sliding over his back. The caresses fueled the heat at the pit of his stomach and he deepened the kiss, satisfied when she opened her mouth to his.

After another minute of her luxurious lips, he reluctantly pulled away. "Eden, I don't wanna scare ya off again."

Her whole body was relaxed beneath him and she moved one of her arms from him and layed it above her head as she caught her breath, "It's hard to be scared when my mind is consumed by what you make me feel."

The words were said in a moment of vulnerability and he shifted off her to lay beside her. "Do ya wanna tawk about all of it?"

She turned on her side so they were looking at each other face to face, "Maybe you are going soft, Spot Conlon." She teased, lightly, but he could see how much it meant to her that he wanted to hear her thoughts.

"Ya want tickled again?" He threatened, raising his hand towards her and she giggled, green eyes dancing before her face fell and she looked at him with a confused look. "What?" He asked, lowering his hand.

"I just realized…we're not touching?"

"So?" He asked, not getting it right away.

She sat up and looked at him, "I can still feel. But, we're not skin-to-skin?"

He sat up, too, and then got off the bed. Slowly, he edged back a foot from her and he watched as her face fell back to that set look he had recognized from her being numb. She stood and moved back to him so they were close but still not touching, and he raised an eyebrow as her face once more lit up with her emotions.

"Weird." She murmured, staring up into his eyes.

"Could…could it be related to how close ouah…bond is?" He didn't know why he whispered the question, but he felt as though this moment required it.

She tilted her head, "That's a very good theory." Looking away, she pondered that for a moment before turning back to him as she thought of something, "Could I have this feeling with others?"

A wave of unexpected jealousy slammed into him and he looked away so she couldn't see it or the hurt that underlined it. "I don't know."

She reached out to touch his cheek, to turn his face to meet her gaze, "It won't be as strong as it is with you. I just meant maybe Jack could never make me feel because we never really had a bond together."

He hadn't realized that his entire body had tensed at her initial question, that she had read him as she did her books, and her reassurance relaxed him, "Oh, then maybe? We could try it by visiting Jack tomarrah like ya wanted ta."

Eden gave him a brilliant smile, "Should we go get some grub, now?" She asked, just as his stomach growled.

"I guess that's a yes." He told her reaching out and taking her hand.

She squeezed his hand lightly, "Oh, good. I thought maybe with this new revelation, you wouldn't want to hold my hand."

He stopped her right before the door to grab their coats. He held hers up as she slipped her arms through and then put on his own. Before they opened the door, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips and took her hand, "I always want ta hold ya hand." He told her, simply.

But, those words got him another quick kiss on the lips.

 **A/N: You can actual view that astronomy book on Google books if any of you are interested. Just google the title! I'm sorry this was late to come out and I didn't even reply to any of my reviewers because I've been SO busy! But, I dearly thank you all for taking time to review! You guys are awesome and I love you and I'll reply to all those who review this time! :D**

 **Also, if you guys are looking for fanfic suggestions, I'm going to shamelessly plug in Pixielou's story My Perfect Disaster and All Through the Night. The are EXCELLENTLY written. And we converged her world with my Benjamin Hotel Series so if any of you like Carlos, you'd definitely like her stories! Review hers and tell her I sent you! (And read my Benjamin hotel series ;) Lots of love to all of you reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	20. Chapter 20

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

I woke with the sun even though it was my day off. For a long time, I lay there watching dust motes dance in the soft light of dawn and wondered about my numbness, trying to figure out why it was that I held strong connections to certain people but not to others. Of the few people in my life, I would have assumed Sue to be the closest to me up until my first encounter with Spot.

Of course, Sue wasn't much for physical affection, and neither was I up until now. It surprised me, how rapidly and almost unconsciously humans tended to adapt to new things in their environment. Not too long ago, I'd have shied away from anyone looking to get close-such as Jack's need to re-discover our 'sibling bond'. But, here I was, almost looking forward to seeing him.

Rising from bed, I slowly got ready. I knew what it was like to be lonely, and now I also knew what it was like _not_ to be. While I missed Spot when he wasn't around, this opportunity to be home and by myself was a nice reminder of how quiet-albeit boring-my life had been before he had come into it. I was looking in the mirror as I thought that, and was surprised to see my lips twitch in humor. It was subtle, but startling and I leaned forward to search my face for anymore reactions I wasn't aware of. I must have been concentrating too hard, because my face stayed in that neutral position and I sighed in disappointment.

Grabbing my coat, I stepped out of my apartment and was locking my door up when I heard Seth come out of his apartment. "Hello." I greeted, tucking my key into my coat pocket.

His head came up immediately and his warm, brown eyes lit up, "Good morning. Heading to work?" He asked, locking his own door and turning towards me. He seemed nervous once again and I was beginning to wonder if that was how he always was.

"No. Going to visit my brother." I told him, and together we walked down the stairs much as we had climbed up them the day before, "You?" I asked, looking at him from the corner of my eye.

His dark eyes shifted slightly, and he flicked his head to get his black hair out of his face. "No, I start in a few days. Thought I'd run out and catch some fresh air. Get ta know the lay of the land." He tossed me a lopsided grin, his nervousness easing a tad.

"There's a nice bakery a few blocks over." I told him, "There's also a bench across the street. If you sit there around noon, you can see the baker's son and the butcher's daughter meet in the alley beside it to steal a few kisses."

He cocked his head and gave me a look, but a smile hovered on the edges of his lips, "I'll keep that in mind." Shaking his head, we stopped on the sidewalk in front of the building and he asked, "Where do you work to afford your apartment?" He squinted up at the building as he asked, the morning light catching highlights of brown in his obsidian hair.

"On a fishing boat called _Daybreak_." I told him, scanning the street and catching a glimpse of Hoot leaning casually against a light post on the corner. "Gotta go, enjoy your exploration of Brooklyn!" I called back to Seth, my feet carrying me towards the little bird who stood up straight and grinned as I reached him.

"Hello, hummingbird. Spot asked me to escort ya ta the Brooklyn Bridge." Hoot greeted, his grey eyes alighting on Seth, "Who's the oriental?"

I started away from Hoot, my thoughts turning to Spot who was awaiting me, "Just a new neighbor in the building." I said offhandedly, "Are you coming with us to Manhattan today?" I asked.

"Nah, Spot'll be with you. I got othah bird jobs ta do." He muttered, morosely.

I heard a chuckle come out of my mouth and I looked over to him and made my hand softly pat his head. I was just intending to reply when I heard someone yell my name from behind us. Hoot and I halted at the same time and turned to see Slips running through the morning crowd. "Eden! Wait up!"

Nerves fluttered as I watched her catch up to us and I glanced at Hoot, who stood there with an unreadable expression that reminded me of Spot. Slips stopped in front of us, panting, and she looked as lovely as I remembered even dressed up as a Newsboy. "Hello." I greeted, and those opalescent eyes lit up with hope that made me feel silly for being so angry with her. "I thought you'd show up sooner." I quipped.

She gave me a cute, lopsided grin, "I would have…but a friend suggested I give you a little space. Let you and Spot fix things before I barreled in to beg forgiveness."

I remembered the newsie with the dark hair who had been a little more concerned with her well-being than any of the others and wondered if that was the friend she was talking about. "Well, by all means. Start the begging." I found myself saying, the humor evident.

Slips smiled, took a deep breath, and let it out, "Eden Sullivan. I hereby beg your forgiveness for getting you caught up in Spot and I's…power struggle." She gave me a charming, sheepish look as she tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, "I might have gotten a little carried away when I found out he knew. But, finding out some girl would take a knife for that arrogant…" She trailed off and I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, we can agree to disagree about him. But, I guess what I want to say is…can you forgive me?"

Her eyes looked at me so imploringly that I sighed, "Apology accepted. Just try not to get me killed again, alright?"

Squealing, she pulled me into a hug and since I was used to feeling every time Spot touched me, I almost expected to feel something. But, our bond must not have been stron enough, yet, despite the fact that I felt relief at having mended things.

"Well, I have to go visit my brother." I told her, when she finally pulled away.

"You have a brother?" Her surprise was apparent on her face.

I looked at Hoot and then back towards her, "Yeah, Jack Kelly. I thought all the newsies would know by now."

Her eyes got big and round at the name, "No way! We thought that was a rumor." She grinned and wagged a finger at me, "Can't believe every rumor ya hear, Eden."

It was so easy to slip back into our friendship and it was bittersweet that we didn't have time to catch up. "This one is true. But, I gotta run. Let's catch up soon!" This time, I was the one to pull her in for one more hug before Hoot and I hurried off to meet up with Spot.

Spot looked annoyed when we met him at the bridge, "Where ya been?" He asked, directed more at Hoot than me.

"Slips held us up." Hoot defended himself and I put myself between the two, feeling blossoming through me as I got close enough for our 'bond' or whatever it was to kick in.

Spot's eyes were an icy blue, but they softened as they quickly scanned my face, "It's my fault. Slips wanted to apologize. I'm sorry you were kept waiting." I told him softly, briefly thinking about the time he had told me he hated when I was so honest that it didn't allow him to be angry at me.

He folded his arms and leaned back just a little bit from me, "Awright, are ya ready to go?" Something was still bothering him, I could tell, but with Hoot around I knew he wouldn't tone down his tough-leader act.

Smiling brilliantly at him, I said, "Mhm!" And tossed a wink at Hoot, who was staring at me as though I were an entirely new creature.

Spot reached out and lightly touched my arm, "I gotta talk to Hoot, go on ahead…but not too far." I found myself rolling my eyes, but moving away from them to give them their privacy. With the distance from Spot, my numbness crawled back over me and my hearing seemed to get even more keen. I tried to tune my hearing towards the wind that swept along the river, the sounds of the carriages and the people who walked by me.

At one point, I couldn't help to eavesdrop just a little. "…I don't like that. Ya new assignment is him. Find out everything ya can and report back." Spot was telling Hoot and I wondered which poor guy Spot was putting a bird on.

Sure it had nothing to do with me, I tuned them out once more and leaned against the railing to gaze down. In just a few short days it would be March and I couldn't wait for the warmer days to come. As much time as I spent on the fishing boat, I had never learned how to swim. It was an entirely different thing when you couldn't feel your limbs and the prospect swimming with Spot, of feeling them move and learning how to float, excited me.

Once more, feeling washed over me and I knew Spot was close. He leaned against the railing, body turned towards me as he tapped his cane lightly, "Ya settle things with Slips?"

Hugging Slips had been weird with no feeling and I found myself moving into him, snaking my arms under his open coat and around him. He moved his cane out of the way so I could be right up against him, "Yeah, I forgave her. Seems silly to hold grudges." I replied, rubbing my cheek against his worn, cotton shirt. I felt a relaxed sigh leave my lips and his chuckle reverberated in his chest.

"You may think it's silly." He murmured, wrapping his own arms around me and resting his cheek on my head, "But, lotsa people let grudges control their entiah lives. Those are the people to avoid."

I pulled my head back to look up at him, "You're full of wisdom this morning."

"Patient, wise, just a few things people say about me." He said it so offhandedly, so seriously, I couldn't stop the laugh.

He grinned and took my hand as we started walking along the bridge and I continued to giggle at his comment, "Patient." I said, shaking my head, "I was a few minutes late and it looked as though you were about to send every bird out after me."

"Five minutes, actually, and I was worried somethin' happened." Spot's eyebrows pinched together and I realized he was thinking of all the things that could have happened to me. That's why he'd been angry earlier. He had been worried about _me_.

I stared at his profile in awe, trying to figure out how it was that I went from being a ghost girl with no connections, to having someone care about my well-being. Something warm swelled in my gut and I dropped my head as he caught me staring. This warm feeling, this wasn't just happiness. This was a mutant, much powerful warmth and I found myself lightly squeezing his hand as I realized I had been feeling this for quite a while around him.

I could think of no other name for it. Just that four letter word that others had always talked of, whispered to each other, and treated as a big deal. Something I vaguely recalled from my childhood, from that memory of being on a beach with my mother, but that I hadn't even thought of since. Something I was sure I'd never know, it being the exact opposite of my numbness. Instead of feeling nothing, it was as if I felt everything for the boy beside me. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, shocking and yet, not at all surprising. It had been building between us since the moment we met, I just hadn't recognized it until now.

 _Love._

 **A/N: Review, please!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	21. Chapter 21

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

He didn't miss the change in her, although he wasn't entirely sure what he did or said to cause it. He'd only mentioned he'd been worried about her, which was true. He wasn't even sure why he had been so worried that it took her longer than normal to get to him. Perhaps, it was because things were going so well and some part of him didn't want anything to change.

Which was possible after Hoot told him of her new neighbor. A young man, who had stared after her with goo-goo eyes according to the bird. The very words had caused Spot to bristle with jealousy. Without thinking, he'd set Hoot on the man. He couldn't even regret it, not really. His feelings for Eden were too much for him to even think about, let alone allow some random guy to swoop in and take what was his.

Spot glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, taking in how happy she looked. Her green eyes glowed, a smile hovering on her kissable lips, and her tendrils of her mahogany hair brushed her cheeks like soft caresses. "Anything new happen?" He asked her as they stepped off the bridge.

A contemplative looked crossed her face, "No…oh, I have a new neighbor named Seth. He moved in the other day, his uncle is the landlord." She never spoke highly of her landlord, hated even having to give him her rent.

He hid his relief at her honesty, "Do you know a lot of your neighbors?" He asked, attempting to sound blasé.

Eden shook her head, "Not really. They all know the landlord despises me…and they think I'm…you know." Her tone was easy going, but he didn't miss the underlying hurt. It hadn't seemed to bother her the first time she had mentioned she made people uncomfortable due to her lack of feeling. But clearly, that had begun to change along with all her other changes.

Gently, he let go of her hand and then pulled it through the crook of his elbow so that she was closer to his side, hoping it gave her comfort, "I like ya just the way ya are, Eden." He let the words fall faintly from his mouth, for her ears alone. It had the desired effect, her cheeks pinkening beautifully, the contrast of the soft coral blush from the chestnut strands of hair beckoned him to touch her cheek but he kept his hand at his side. She made it so easy for him to be soft, made him forget he had to keep up his reputation.

Before she came along, he felt as though he'd been close to a numb state as well. At least emotionally. The most he cared about before her were his boys and that reputation. But, now…nothing compared to how much he cared about her and he didn't want to think about how alive his emotions had become since she stepped into his life. She had breathed new feelings into him just as surely as he had breathed feeling into her.

"I like you just the way you are, too." She whispered back, breaking him from his thoughts, and she lightly bumped her hip against his.

He chuckled at her playfulness, "Keep it up, Sullivan. I'll tickle ya latah."

Laughing, they walked the rest of the way to Tibby's sharing playful banter that occasionally got so loud, pedestrians walking by sent them amused or annoyed looks. It didn't stop, either, when they sat down in a booth to wait for Jack. The sound of Eden's laughter the moment Jack walked in, directed him and David right to their table.

"Oh, good. You two made up." Jack groused, sliding into their booth so he was across from Eden. The words were said dryly, but a smile twitched at Jack's mouth as though he were pleased to see Eden so happy. _Because of me_ , Spot thought savagely at the Cowboy. Even though Jack hadn't helped him. He tried not to let the resentment get to him, tried to be civil to Jack for Eden's sake.

"Hey, Jacky-boy. Mouth." He greeted, barely casting a glance to David. The educated, fuddy-duddy had always grated on Spot in a vague way. A buzzing irritation.

"Hi, Jack." Eden said, shyly, "And…Mouth?" She looked at David, her head tilting at the name.

"David Jacobs. They sometimes call me the Walking Mouth." He told her, holding his hand out, "And you're Eden? Jack's told me a lot about you."

"Oh, he has?" Eden asked, shaking David's hand and looking pointedly at Jack.

"Not everything." Jack said, rolling his eyes and letting her know he hadn't told David about her numbness.

She smiled, "Then it's nice to meet you, David."

Spot glared as a blush crept over David's face and he slid an arm around Eden's shoulder nonchalantly as he perused the menu. David raised an eyebrow and Jack rolled his eyes, "Is this how ya feel when you see me and Sarah, Dave?"

"Do you feel nauseous?" David asked, after ordering a root beer and his lunch.

"Yeah." Jack replied, rubbing his stomach dramatically as he gave his order and handed the menu to the waiter.

David nodded, "Then, yeah."

"Ha ha." Eden muttered, but smiled at Jack, "Who's Sarah?" She inquired, leaning on the table to give Jack her full attention.

"David's sistah and my girl." Jack replied, "Maybe next day ya off, you can meet her."

Eden beamed at him, "I'd like that. So, tell me about the strike."

They spent the rest of the afternoon filling Eden in on the strike, the rally, and the outcome of it all. Spot, Jack and David took turns filling in details, like what the newsies were up to while Jack was in the refuge. Eden laughed at the good parts and gasped when Jack had seemingly betrayed the group. "Jack! I expected better of you." She told him, shaking her head.

David and Spot laughed at the surprising look of shame Jack got at being reprimanded by his little sister and Spot shook his head at the amount of differences between Eden and her brother. He brought this up later, on their way home.

"Jack and you are so different. What were ya parents like?" He inquired, watching Eden pause to pet a horse attached to a driveless carriage stopped alongside the sidewalk. The horse didn't seem to mind in the least, turning its head to allow her to pet its long nose for a moment. Spot stared in awe at how easily Eden tamed creatures. How fast she had tamed him.

"I only remember my mother; my father went to jail before my ma had me." She looked a little pensive before adding, "Sue's the closest thing I have to a father. Him and ma never talked about our father when we were kids. I remember Jack asking once, ma said he was named after his father but that he went away. Sue told us later, when she wasn't around, that he tried robbing a bank and got caught. Fifteen years in the state pen."

It was quiet as Spot mulled that over, wondering about a man who would risk life with a family in the pursuit of greed. He didn't sound like either of his children. Softly, Eden added, "I suppose he's either dead or out now."

* * *

 **Two Days Later**

Quentin found himself more restless than usual, and was angry that he gave Sam a week when he should have only allotted him a few days. The idea that what he always wanted was so close to being within his grasp…

"Rob, I'm going out." He muttered to his second, who was waiting for a delivery.

"Alright, Boss. Hey, did ya want us to move on that lodging house?" He inquired, causing Quentin to pause and glower.

"Whatever. Ransack the place if you must. You know what to look for." Quentin had been looking for Minerva Foster and the item in question for six years. What was a few more days? Rob nodded, ignoring the bite of his boss' words, aware he had a temper hotter than the pits of hell.

The drug lord didn't wait for a reply, either, only headed in the direction of Brooklyn. If Eden had a job, Sam probably wouldn't follow her to it. He should be at home. The walk was frustratingly long for him; his impatience was thin with so much close to coming together. It was moments like these, when it felt like he could feel everything a thousand times sharper than normal, that made him miss Birdie more than anything.

He jammed his hands in his pockets, fingering the cold metal of the pocket watch, and tried to push away the consuming darkness that filled his mind like a fog. He needed to control everything, to take his impatience and squash it until he learned more.

And then he was there, in front of Eden's building. Scaling the fire escape, he once more opened the window to Sam's apartment and slid in. The young man jumped, spilling the liquid in the mug he held and stared open mouthed at Quentin, "Q." He breathed, and then jerked his arm to set down the mug, "I'm sorry. D-did I miss a meeting with you? I thought I h-had a week."

His nervousness did the trick, soothing Quentin and reminding him how powerful he was, how he was still in control, "No, Samuel. I just wanted to hear if you acquired any more information."

Sam had moved to grab a small scrap of cloth to clean up his spill and he looked up at Quentin with a slightly curious look that the drug lord ignored. "Uh, she's at work. Works on a fishing boat called… _Daybreak_ , I think." He rose and deposited the cloth in a medium-sized wicker basket and turned back to Quentin.

Quentin let out a soft laugh, his mind immediately knowing exactly who owned that old boat. "Sue, you always were a Longfellow man." He muttered to himself, ignoring the way Sam raised an eyebrow and regarded him as if he were crazy. "What else?" He asked.

Suddenly, Sam seemed a bit uncomfortable, "Saturday I followed her and Spot-"

"Who's Spot?" He bit out, scowling at the unfamiliar name.

Sam shifted, "Spot Conlon is her friend, I guess? He's the so-called leader of the Brooklyn Newsies."

He narrowed his eyes, "What is he to her?"

Lifting his shoulders in a shrug, Sam looked away from Quentin's inquiring gaze, "Back when I was a newsie, Slips didn't like that Spot knew her secret so she sent some boys aftah him…Eden saved his life by taking a stab that was meant foah him."

Loyalty. That was what Quentin needed. So many times, he himself, had been stabbed in the back. He felt that impatience start to pace back and forth within him, a caged lion ready to pounce on what he knew he needed. It lived in this very building. "So, he means enough to her to risk her life for his." He was talking aloud to himself again and he felt himself glare at Sam as though it was his fault for being in the room, "Anything else?"

Sam had taken a few steps to the side, edging as far from Quentin as he could in the tiny apartment, "They visited her brother." He folded his arms and shook his head, "Her brother is _the_ Jack Kelly."

Quentin had frozen the moment Sam had said _brother_. The words echoed in his mind and he felt the breath leave his lungs. "Jack Kelly?" He asked, softly.

"Yeah, he was the leader of the strike in the summertime." Sam's voice dipped down in awe, "Went against Pulitzer himself." Those last few words hung in the empty air of the apartment and Sam sighed and shook his head at Q's craziness. The man was probably already half way to Manhattan by now.

 **A/N: Many thanks to my new reviewers who are just joining us! And to all my readers and reviewers who have been here since the beginning! Also, welcome to my new readers who are following and favoriting! I love you all and I hope you like this chapter! Drop me a review!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	22. Chapter 22

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

For most of the day he watched him. Jack's charisma made him push papers faster than any other newsboy, his headlines-so obviously a stretch of the truth-brought people to him in droves. Although he looked a little old to still be hawking headlines, the boy clearly had the god given gift of selling. Quentin was beginning to re-think his original plan as Jack's pile of papers dwindled to only a few and Quentin called out to him before he could sell out and leave.

"Jack Kelly."

"Who's asking?" Jack grumbled, turning to follow the sound of whoever said his name.

Quentin leaned casually against a light pole, his bowler hat dipped down just a tad so he could watch Jack and the boy wouldn't be able to see his face quite yet. "I'd change my name, too, if my real one was Francis…I did, actually." He told the young man.

Every muscle in Jack's body went stock still, his brown eyes riveted on the stranger, "The last guy that knew my real name ended up in jail." He told Quentin, eyes narrowing just a bit.

"Been there, done that." Quentin replied, nonchalantly, waiving away his time in the state penitentiary. He found it amusing that although he had no influence over this kid's life, he still managed to have a bit of him within. Francis Quentin Barclay had never liked his given name, and he sure as hell never let anyone call him by it.

"Who are you?" Jack asked, passing his newspapers to his other arm and reaching for his cowboy hat, securing it on top of his head. As though in doing so, it could shield him from the impending shock of knowledge.

Only then did Quentin take off his own hat, wondering if the boy would recognize his father by sight. "Quentin Barclay." If not by sight, perhaps by name, he mused, watching the emotions play across his son' face.

Jack let out a noise of disbelief, "Heh." Before he shifted his feet and narrowed his eyes that were so obviously an inheritance of his mother's. "Ya kiddin' me, right?" He asked, forgetting his hat was on his head as he moved to run a hand through his hair. It thumped against his back as he stepped back from Quentin.

"Not at all." Quentin replied smoothly, unobtrusively taking a step forward.

Irritation and anger cut across his face, making it look sharper as he sneered, "So, whatya lookin' foah? A family reunion? I ain't interested." He turned to walk away, his shoulders stiff.

"Don't you just want a family, too, Jack?" He called out, the words having the desired effect.

Jack whirled around, brown eyes blazing, "I got a family, _mistah_." He seethed, making it clear there were no familial ties there. "I don't want nothin' from some no-good convict who left my ma before even gettin' ta know eithah of his kids."

Quentin inwardly winced at his thick, New York accent, the years of living on the street making his words more rounded and harsh. It brought back memories of his own mother's voice, screaming at him in that awful, thick cockney accent she had. He'd spent most of his life concentrating hard on mimicking the smooth, pronounced speech of the upper class any chance he got. It was a sure-fire way to make others think you were more intelligent, lull them into a false sense of security. People didn't expect a smooth talking, educated man to cut their throat brutally before they could even finish their sad excuses.

"Hmm, that is a shame." He drawled lazily, watching as Jack stood there and glared at him.

"What?" Jack questioned, looking confused for a moment, "Shame that I'm one of the good guys? Not a drug dealin' bully who abandons his family?" His eyes shifted to the left and Quentin didn't miss it.

Placing his hat on his head and turning to leave he left Jack with one thing, "You're too angry right now to even listen to me. Come to Queens if you change your mind and want a real family."

He ignored Jack's "Ha!", the only word the boy could think of as a comeback. Quentin hadn't expected the boy to be thrilled to see him, but he supposed he hadn't thought he'd be so angry about it. Didn't Birdie tell him why he'd gone to jail? It made no difference. He shoved away his disappointment, wondering how Eden would react. Was she as emotional as her brother? As Birdie had been? Or did she share his cooler blood? He felt that wave of urgency to find out.

Pushing it away, he tried to grapple with his patience. He had one more person to visit before he confronted Eden. But, that would have to wait till tomorrow. He still had a business to run and Seth would keep an eye on Eden until he got to her.

Jack watched him go. He'd known exactly where his father had been ever since the name had started growing power in New York. Young newsboys would whisper the name, thinking it could draw the boogie man to them if they spoke it too loud. He never thought for a second that the man would find him-would know where to look or know that he changed his name. It was the worst sort of omen, to see him now. When he'd just gotten reacquainted with Eden. He hoped his sister was alright, that Quentin had only found him and not her. But, just in case, he thought as he sold his last paper and headed towards the Jacobs' apartment, he thought he might as well go check on her tomorrow.

* * *

Hoot knew he should have stuck around Eden's apartment, should have tailed the Oriental kid, but after seeing the man climb into the guys' apartment and then leave no sooner than he'd entered…well, Hoot was sure Spot would be alright with him going a tad off course.

He followed the man. He was extra careful about his bird duties, especially because every so often the man would stop and gaze around him, sharp green eyes picking up minute details in a way that Hoot had only ever seen Eden and Spot do. At one point, Hoot tried to mimic it, attempting to be more like the two people he had come to rely on and trust more than anyone else since he'd been on his own. Unfortunately, trying to view all the details almost sent him running right into a well-to-do lady who squawked at him and his filthiness. He was sure he had been seen, that the man would know he was being followed, but his eerie eyes skimmed right over Hoot's scene.

They continued well into Manhattan. Hoot used people, vendor carts and alleys to keep out of the stranger's line of sight, and was surprised when he stopped to watch a newsboy. Jack Kelly to be exact.

Hoot inched as close as possible, holding his breath as he heard the man call out Jack's name. What was the connection here that Hoot was missing? Why would this man know Eden's neighbor and her brother?

When the man told Jack his name, it ran Hoot's blood cold. He barely forced himself to stay to catch the entire conversation but he listened to every word, not quite understanding why Quentin was telling Jack to come to Queens if he wanted a family. Did the Cowboy plan to join Q's gang? He struggled to remember every word as he bolted back towards Brooklyn on short legs. Hoot knew that time was now of the essence and it was imperative that he made it to Spot. Spot could stop whatever this was, there wasn't a thing Spot couldn't do.

There also wasn't a street kid in New York who could say they never heard of Quentin Barclay. The drug-dealing legend of Queens was not someone you wanted to know. There were plenty of horror stories about him; how he'd sometimes kidnap children off the street just to play with when he got bored. Drugging them and using them as entertainment for his men. Pitting them against wild dogs, chickens, and whatever other creatures the men could get ahold of. Hoot didn't know anyone who personally experienced any of those things, but if even half the rumors were true, he didn't want to think that Eden could accidentally get caught up in Quentin's world.

He continued to dodge through the streets of New York, even when he felt as though his legs would give out or that his lungs would catch fire, they burned so bad. "Spot!" He called out as soon as the imposing leader came into view. Spot didn't hear him, too busy shouting a headline and selling papers. "Spot!"

Spot heard the second call, his frosty blue eyes cutting across the crowd swifter than an eagle's. They alighted on Hoot and he immediately put up his most severe face, instantly sending potential customers away as he pushed through the crowd towards Hoot. He knew the little bird would never bother him unless it was important. He grabbed Hoot by the collar of his coat and hauled him into the nearby alley, kicking a crate over and setting the kid down on it, "Catch ya breath and tell me what's wrong." He ordered, leaning against the wall and watching Hoot with an indecipherable look upon his face.

"Q…" He started, but then stopped to catch his breath, figuring it was better to state it clearly than try to wrestle it out between heavy breaths. He used Spot's steely presence to calm down, to gather his breaths and slowly control them.

It was a testament to how patient Spot had become since he'd started seeing Eden. He waited for Hoot to catch his breath and ignored the part of him that paced restlessly for the news. It was worst not knowing what it was about, what if something had happened to Eden? His mind ran wild, imagining scenarios where her neighbor had attacked her or her falling off the boat and drowned, or got-

"Quentin Barclay." Hoot said, breaking Spot from his increasingly disturbing thoughts.

"What about him?" Spot asked, clenching his jaw as he thought of the infamous drug dealer of Queens. A renown puppet master of the addicted, he was often talked of in hushed tones and never when it was dark out. That was when his little minions liked to stalk the back alleys and taverns for old and new customers to entice them to try new laced forms of drugs.

Hoot took a deep breath, "Seth, Eden's neighbor, is working for him. He stopped to visit the Seth this morning and then took off into Manahattan to see Jack-"

Spot shook his head, "That don't make sense, Hoot. Why would he go see Jack?" He asked, impatiently. Sure, Jack was a lot of things and he didn't always get along with the Cowboy, but Jack wasn't someone to get involved with the likes of Quentin. He was everything seedy and dark about the city.

So, Hoot reiterated what he'd heard between the two adults and Spot listened intently to every word, his mind quickly putting together the puzzle pieces. Was it a coincidence that they were just talking about Eden's father only two days ago? Now, it was looking like he was turning up for a family reunion. If Jack didn't cooperate, would that leave Eden? Would he go after her next? He felt the irresistible urge to go to her, but it would have to wait. He needed to see Jack, needed to understand what he was going up against before bringing Eden into it. If anything happened to her…

"Go wait for Eden to get off work. Make sure she gets home awright and don't let that guy near her. Tell her I'll see her tomorrow aftah work." He ordered Hoot, handing him what was left of his papers.

He didn't want to spend the night in Manhattan and he hated going even an evening without seeing her but his gut was telling him to get to the bottom of this strangeness. Spot shook his head as he pulled his cane out to tap on the sidewalk as he walked. The last couple weeks he had met her after work either at the docks or her apartment. They'd grab food or go back to the lodging house and visit with the boys. For Eden's sake, he had to know that nothing Jack did would get back to her. That she wouldn't be caught in the middle of her brother's shit.


	23. Chapter 23

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

I trudged up the stairs to my apartment, ignoring Hoot who was just behind me, prattling on about one of the newsboys. As much as I loved the kid, I was overcome with disappointment to hear I wouldn't be seeing Spot this evening. I thought of all the food I bought just this morning before work, the cook book laid out on the counter, open to the recipe I was going to cook for him. It was a small gesture, but I was looking forward to spending the evening in with him. Just the two of us.

Instead, I got Hoot.

Sighing, I stopped in front of my door, "Hey, Hoot?" I murmured, turning to meet the soft, grey eyes of the little bird, "I'm sorry, kid. I'm not feeling so great. Can we spend time together another evening?" I hated seeing his face fall, but I was feeling selfish and mopey.

"Awright, hummin'bird." He said, glancing down the hall, "Just uh, don't hang out with that Seth kid." He whispered, looking uneasy.

I narrowed my eyes, "Why?" Hoot shook his head, not wanting to tell me, but I could guess. "Spot said so? Is he policing who I can and cannot hang out with?" I felt a wave of hostility and resentment. "If he doesn't have time for me, then he doesn't get a say to who I spend my evening with." I bit out, shooing Hoot away, "Go on, go back to the lodging house. I'll be fine on my own." _Just like I have been before newsies showed up in my life_ , I thought, savagely even as I tried to reign in my rage.

I was half flattered Spot seemed jealous of my neighbor. I wasn't an idiot, I knew Hoot had likely told Spot about it, and when he asked if anything new happened on our way to visit Jack I knew that was his way of asking me about it. But, really, it bothered me that he was showing such blatant control over who I made friends with. It wasn't any of his business and if he couldn't even _trust_ me, after all the ways I'd shown how much he meant to me, then what the hell were we even doing?

Unable to see the food go to waste, I made dinner anyway. The smell was heavenly, and I think it carried across the hall because I heard Seth moving around in his apartment. Pacing for a few minutes before his door opened and he knocked lightly on my door. "Hang on." I called out, putting the wooden spoon down next to the pot of noodles

Opening the door, I smiled at Seth. There was not a thing about the tall, awkwardly nervous boy that screamed danger. He didn't have Spot's classically handsome features, or the confidence and awareness of everything about him. He didn't own a room as soon as he walked in it, or carry a stick around with him. He sure as hell didn't command the gaze of every female within a five-mile radius…I let my thoughts trail off as I realized just how far gone I was for Spot as I smiled at the boy, "Hello."

"Uh, hi Eden." He murmured, "I smelled something good." He dipped his head in embarrassment and gave me a crooked smile.

"I decided to give a new recipe a shot." I told him, "But, my friend can't make it, so I have extra. Hungry?" I asked, smiling as his stomach rumbled.

"Just a little bit." He replied, smile widening as I let him into the apartment. "It smells really good." He commented, looking around my small place. It made me think of the first time I brought Spot here and even though I was going against his wishes out of spite, I missed him terribly.

"Beef stroganoff." I told him, draining the noodles. "Not as hard to make as I expected. Or maybe I'm just a really good cook."

He chuckled and sat at the small table, "Did ya mother teach ya?" He asked lightly, glancing over the recipe book.

I mixed the gravy over everything as I answered his question, "Nope, she died when I was four. I kind of raised myself."

"What about ya brothah?" Seth's eyebrows knit together as he asked it, warm brown eyes concerned.

I glanced over to make sure my shoulder shrugged, "We got sent to an orphanage. He didn't like following their rules and ran for it. It's easier to survive on the streets when you just have yourself to worry about." It was strange, I didn't feel any anger or resentment for Jack now. I understood why he'd done it, seemed to forgive him for it without even realizing it. Like I had said to Spot, it seemed silly to hold a grudge. Especially when he had been only a year older than me. "What about you, Seth?" I asked, curious about my new friend.

He mimicked my shrug, "My mother died, too. About six years ago. Just me and my dad since."

I didn't miss the way his shoulders hunched as he mentioned his father and his jaw clenched. Just the slightest tick could be seen and I summed up that there wasn't a good relationship there and wisely didn't ask any more questions about it. I pulled out two plates and utensils and filled each one before bringing them over to the table and setting one down in front of Seth, "How is your new job going?" I asked, instead.

"Thank you." He murmured, staring at the home cooked meal with a strange look before he dug in and answered my question, "Oh, ya know. Factory work. Fast-paced, loud, and will probably be the death of me."

"I worked in a clock factory when I was thirteen. It was awful." I told him, sitting down and tasting the first bite, almost groaning out loud at the amazing taste of my cooking, "I'm going to have to make this every night." I said.

"Let me know, I'll come ovah." He replied, smiling, "Best meal I evah had." He added.

I accepted the praise, feeling the glowing warmth of happiness that came with making a connection to someone new. Despite how nice it was to share a meal with someone, I didn't let him stay long after dinner, telling him I had to get up early for work and wishing him a safe day at the factory. I knew nothing I did had been a real betrayal to Spot, but it didn't erase the guilt I felt at enjoying time with another boy.

Sighing, I got ready for bed and crawled under the blankets with the astronomy book that made me feel a tad closer to Spot when he wasn't around. I read by the glow of the oil lamp for a long time before falling asleep with my face pressed against a page illustrated with constellations.

* * *

"March comes in like a lion, out like a lamb!" I hollered to Sue over the screaming wind. The quip seemed to hold true today, the clouds over New York dark and looming, the wind whipping our lines and just about anything that wasn't held down; the weather was angrier than it had been all winter.

Sue grunted, passing by me on the boat, handing me the net I had asked for so I could cast it out, always careful not to get too close to me. I knew he wasn't a touchy man, but he had a way of making me feel like I had leprosy. "Who said that?" He asked, for once curious, as a spray of salt water hit us both.

I knew I couldn't feel the grin, but I was sure it was on my face at his inquiry. I always quoted things to him and he usually didn't take the bait. He wasn't interested in all of my useless knowledge. "John Fletcher, 1624. His play, 'A Wife for a Month'." Again, I had to yell the words over the wind, the waves fierce along with it, pitching the boat back and forth. It was in dangerous conditions like this that we had to be extra careful. A net too full with waves like these could tip _Daybreak_ over in a matter of milliseconds.

Sue rolled his pale blue eyes.

"But, wait! Some say it refers to the constellations, Leo the Lion in the eastern horizon and the Ram in the western." Sometimes, I was sure I just wanted to hear myself talk and Sue was a great listener. It made me feel a wave of gratitude towards him as I cast the net out, "How's the starboard net look?" I called, wondering if my voice would be hoarse before the day was through.

He tugged at it and nodded, letting me know it was time to pull it in. Just as he began hauling it in, a wave hit the port nearly knocking him into the water and I grabbed the helm of the little boat to counteract the weight and keep us from tipping. "Be careful!" I yelled to him as he caught himself on the side of the boat and gave me a thumb up to show he was fine.

In the next instance, he took a face full of water as a wave hit the starboard side. Coughing, he pulled away from the net and joined me at the helm, "It's too savage ta be out here." He told me, shaking the wet, grey hair from his face.

"I'll grab the net in and we'll head back. Get the one I just tossed over the port side." I told him and he grinned at my authoritative tone.

"Spendin' too much time with that Spot Conlon kid, orderin' me all about my own boat." He grumbled as he moved to the port side. I was thrilled by how much more open he was being with me lately. Teasing and joking in a way we hadn't ever been before we talked about my numb state. I felt a wave of affection for the old man just as I watched my fingers wrap around the net and tug our catch of the day up from the water.

It happened so quickly, I didn't have time to account for _how_ it happened exactly. One moment I was pulling up the net and in the next I was falling into the water, the waves battering me around. It was indescribable, being pushed and pulled around by a force so strong while at the same time unable to feel it. Panic overwhelmed me as I pulled water into my lungs, I could see my limbs flailing against the water but I could not feel them, could not move them to fight against the raging water. I think I would have been swept away if my right arm hadn't been caught in the net I had been trying to pull onto the boat. I could see the black fibers of it twisted around my arm in a second of strange clarity in the madness.

 _This is it_ , I thought. I was sure I was going to die, could already feel my brain growing black and fuzzy from lack of oxygen. I thought of Spot, of his handsome face and the way he made me feel, both physically and emotionally. I clung to all the good feelings he gave me and I grieved for how he would handle the news. One of his horrible fears was about to be actualized-

And then feeling burst through my body like a bolt of lightning, awakening every nerve. The water froze the very blood in my veins as it choked my lungs. Above all the pain, though, was the feel of the strong, large hand wrapped around my tethered arm, pulling the net twisted around it that cut into my skin as he hacked at the wool fibers with his fishing knife. In a matter of seconds, I was free and he was dragging me up through the rough waters, squeezing my arm almost too tightly. My face broke through the surface and I gasped for air and swung my free arm, hell bent on finding some stable surface to hold onto and ended up hitting Sue's shoulder, clinging to him as he hauled me up from the waves and back over the side of _Daybreak_.

We both grunted as he fell back onto the wooden planks of the floor and I landed beside him, coughing up an alarming amount of water. His hand was still gripping my arm as I tried to gather my bearings, shivering from the frigid waters.

"Eden." He grunted, his free hand pressing against my cheek as I heaved more water from my lungs and looked up at the only father figure I'd ever known.

Sobbing, I threw myself at him, burying my face in the curve of his neck as the adrenaline started to slow and the pain and cold seeped into the marrow of my bones. "Sue." I mumbled against him, the feel of the tears coming from my eyes and making tracks on my cheeks bittersweet. "Sue, you make me feel."

His arms had gone around me the moment I had lunged at him, wrapping protectively around me and I felt a hoarse chuckle build in his chest, "Eden, ya scared the shit outta me." I felt an answering laugh, still clinging to him like a lifeline.

The moment couldn't have been more than a few short minutes, but it would have been enough to drown me. Instead, Sue had saved me and proven what I had thought but hadn't reached out to him to test. I hadn't hoped for one person to ever make me feel.

Now I had two.

 **A/N: Two updates and two bombs dropped. Please review, lovelies! I'm DYING to know what you guys think!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	24. Chapter 24

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

"'A wind came up, out of the sea, and said, 'O mists, make room for me.' It hailed the ships, and cried 'Sail on, Ye mariners, the night is gone.' And hurried landward far away, Crying, 'Awake! It is the day.'"

Sue paused in his work on repairing the net he'd cut to free Eden when she fell in just a few hours ago, the voice a haunting echo from a past that had shredded his soul long ago and left ribbons in its place. He hadn't been expecting to ever hear the familiar lilt, the deep baritone, or the poem that had been the reason he named his boat _Daybreak_. Giving a deep sigh, he went back to work, "Quentin." He muttered, loud enough for the man to hear. He silently thanked the stars that Eden had fallen into the water, that she was home and out of this man's reach.

Quentin jumped onto the boat, his green shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows despite the cold of the March day, the grey bowler hat sitting crooked on top of his bald head, defying the strong winds, and for a moment he simply watched Sue work, "Sue, old friend. Who would have thought you'd be a borough away from me?" Quentin had always been the more charming of the two friends, his seemingly easy-going attitude often drawing women to him as Sue's brusque one drove them away. But, Sue knew the truth of the man. Had known him since they were kids, knew the narcissistic taker that hid behind his charisma. He used other peoples' infatuation of him to manipulate and play them. It was his oldest and most worn trick.

"A lifetime away from you would not be far enough." Sue grunted the words, pushing the damaged net off his lap and standing to confront his past. He was exhausted just thinking of going head to head with this man.

Sue faced him, sneering as he took in the details. The obvious lack of aging Quentin seemed to have gone through, his face having only a few lines beside his eyes, made him curse the man. Locked up in prison for ten years would preserve his complexion, whereas the years spent baking in the sun had turned Sue's skin into tanned leather, showing wrinkles beyond his years. Quentin had also chosen to keep his head shaved like the convict he was, while Sue's hair had become prematurely grey and brittle.

The differences between them had never been more obvious. "Tut, tut." Quentin's voice had dropped to a soft tone at Sue's harsh words, "To what do I owe the hostility to?"

Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned back and raised an eyebrow, "Ya really gonna ask that? After everythin'?"

Quentin's head cocked in a very bird-like manner, his green eyes, so disturbingly familiar, keenly took in every detail, "How about we put the past behind us, hmm?" He asked, instead of answering Sue. "Take a moment and just enjoy two friends reconciling after seventeen years."

Sue narrowed his eyes, "I'm afraid my friend died seventeen years ago, when he decided ta become a criminal. I've long since put him ta rest."

A tic started in Quentin's jaw and he adjusted his bowler hat as he turned his gaze to the lapping waters of the East River, "I did what I thought was right by my family, Sue. You'd know what that was like if you ever had one." From his profile, Sue picked up the family resemblance; Eden looked so achingly like her mother but for Quentin's nose and eyes.

Sue rolled his eyes at the blatantly conceited excuse, "Not being there is not how ya take care of family, Quentin. You should know that, you nevah had one until Birdie came along." Of course he would think robbing a bank consisted of taking care of his family. It was an easy lie to tell yourself when you really didn't want to face the fact that you were scared and greedy and jail looked a lot better than having people depend on you.

Quentin's head swung around so quick, a fire lighting in his green eyes, "Weren't we a family, Sue? Before Birdie?"

Sue looked away and grunted, but then found himself saying, "Like I said, I buried you a long time ago."

His old friend smirked, "Yet here I am, alive and well…I can't say the same about you." The condescending tone, paired with those green eyes looking around his boat as though it were little better than a tenement house water closet made Sue seethe with years of pent up rage.

Clenching his teeth, Sue dropped his arms and paced on the small space of the boat, "Just drop the friend act and tell me why ya here." Sue knew it couldn't be for a good reason. He'd heard the whisperings in Taverns across the city of 'Q' the drug lord of Queens whose goons pushed and peddled highs to weak men and women who'd pay to get lost in the effects of the rapidly growing cocaine and heroin market. It was becoming a near epidemic in the city.

Any reason for Quentin being here could not be a good one.

"I hear you have a little worker bee on your boat."

The words froze Sue in place, his mind working fast on how Quentin could have gotten wind of her. What could Eden have possibly done to get on his radar? "Just some street scamp I picked up. Cheap labor." He said, turning to meet Quentin's eyes. He'd always been good at lying.

Quentin, however, had always been good at reading people. "Just a little nobody?"

"I guess. We don't tawk much. We work. Which is what I pay 'em ta do." Sue was beginning to see that Quentin already knew too much, that this whole meeting was to see where Sue's loyalties lay.

They hadn't been with Quentin for a long time. Not since Eden and Jack had been little more than babies, crawling all over him and giggling when he'd lift them high in the air. Quentin didn't know what he'd missed out on by getting sent to the pen. 'Sue' had been one of Eden's very first words. He remembered choking back tears and walking from the room, unwilling to have anyone see how much it had affected him.

But, Elizabeth had followed him, had seen it. It had been a moment between them that he thought of everyday. She wrapped her slim arms around him, "Oh, Sue." She had murmured, "Why didn't I see passed your defenses? Why didn't I see Quentin for what he was?" The regret was heavy in her words as she pulled back to look up at him.

"Ya far too kind, Liz, dear." He murmured, his hand cupping her cheek, "But, the wait ta get passed them isn't worth what's behind them." His gaze slid from her soft, chocolate brown eyes and back towards the two children in the other room, laughing and playing, unaware of this moment. "And if you had seen Quentin for what he was, ya wouldn't have the two best kids." He said the words gruffly, avoiding her gaze, and then he hugged her quickly and left.

"Good talk." Quentin's voice pulled him from the old memories, eyes going cold and hard, like broken chips of an apothecary bottle. "But, I really should be going." He turned, paused, and then added as an afterthought, "Stay out of my way, Sue."

Sue ignored the threat and watched with narrowed eyes as Quentin moved with the agility of a much younger man as he climbed out of the boat. When the drug lord was out of sight, he swore quietly and ran a hand through his hair. Quentin was on the prowl, attempting to find lost pieces of his past, and Sue wasn't sure what exactly that could mean for Eden. He was only sure it couldn't be good.

* * *

Spot hadn't slept well in Manhattan. He was too far from Eden, not in Brooklyn, and the boys there didn't sleep the same as his boys. Jack's confirmations to his suspicions, too, hadn't contributed to a good night's sleep; only caused a knot of hollow dread to settle in the pit of his stomach as he headed back to Brooklyn, the morning loud with the shouts of newsboys and vendors. Half of him didn't want to believe that Eden could be related to the boogie man of Queens but the other half was already mentally preparing for the inevitable confrontation-although he couldn't quite pinpoint what exactly it was that Quentin wanted.

He also tried to think of favors from his book to call in to protect Eden as best he could, an idea that he never would have entertained before her. The urge disconcerted him, left him wondering what it was exactly that made her mean so much more to him than anyone else.

Unwilling to look too closely, he pulled his coat tighter around him, his cane knocking against his leg where he had it looped through his trousers and hurried across the Brooklyn bridge as fast as he could. The wind whipped between the suspension cables, the river far below thrashing wildly, the white caps of the waves a contrast from the muddy brown tinge of the water. He hoped Eden was alright on the little fishing trawler, but his heart sped up as his eyes snagged on the small figure at the end of the bridge, leaning on the rail and waiting for him.

"Hoot?" He called to the bird, trying to squelch the fear.

The young boy didn't meet him halfway, just stood solemnly and waited for Spot to reach him, his small, pinched face scowling ever so slightly. "Spot. I told her not ta hang out with her neighbor."

Spot raised an eyebrow, waiting for the 'but' that would follow, already knowing what had happened. Eden did not like being told what to do, she had spent too much time doing what she wanted when she wanted to do it. Ignoring the sweep of irritation, he clenched his jaw and headed to the lodging house as he finally replied, "She did anyway." He hadn't told Hoot specifically to tell her not to hang out with this Seth kid, had only told him to keep her away from him. Unfortunately, the kid did the one thing that would guarantee she would do the exact opposite.

Hoot followed a step behind, nodding morosely in answer. "She said she wanted ta be alone, but then she cooked him dinnah."

He tried to hide his own scowl at the thought of Eden making a stranger dinner when she had never made _him_ dinner, but he tried to control his petty anger to focus on the bigger picture. This Seth was clearly wheedling his way in to Eden's life-on behalf of her father. But, _why_? Focus on the why, not on the anger, not on the…

Spot nearly stopped as realization slammed into him at what he really felt and it blindsided him. He was…hurt. Which only furthered his anger the more he thought about it. As unreasonable as it was, he felt angry at her for making him care so much for him and then to turn around and cook a meal for another guy. He had spent months slowly building trust between them, tearing down her walls, and for what?

Stewing, he let himself mope around the lodging house, too ill-tempered to sell papers without taking someone's head off. Hoot wisely left him there and when he was alone, he paced around until finally climbing to the roof because being in doors suffocated him.

Sucking in the cold wind, he grappled to center himself. Screaming at Eden would in no way work in this situation. He had to be calm, to reason with her some way, and explain what it was Seth wanted. But, a part of him couldn't stop raging below the surface and he didn't try to tamp it out-could only do so much as he realized it was getting later and _Daybreak_ should be pulling in soon. He had to get going, it had been too long and…he missed her.

Quickening his pace, he got to the docks just as a man in a bowler hat passed by him. Ignoring the unknown man, his eyes quickly sought the boat he was looking for and was disappointed to see it already docked with Sue standing there, a look of great concentration on his face as he gazed out at the rough waters, arms crossed across his chest.

"Sue?" He called, "Where's Eden?"

Pale blue eyes were dragged from the water to meet his. Him and Sue had only talked a few times, mostly when Eden had been recovering from her injury, and since then it had largely only been head nods of greeting.

"Waves rough. She got knocked in. Sent her home." Spot's concern rose with each of his choppy, quick sentences.

"Is she awright?" He barely got out.

A strange flicker of worry passed over the older man's face, "Hope so." But, his eyes slid beyond Spot, to the city behind them, as if lurking there was a danger awaiting Eden. Spot felt it, too, and was surprised when Sue muttered, just barely loud enough over the shrieking wind, "Keep an eye on her."

That order wasn't necessary, but it gave him a moment's pause and he narrowed his eyes on the man before replying, "I will." And then he was all but running down the docks towards her Morgan Avenue apartment. He was breathing heavily as he took the stairs two at a time and when he got to her door he called her name and pounded on it with the side of his fist.

She opened the door almost immediately, wearing a dress rather than her work clothes, but also wearing a blanket over her shoulders. As soon as his eyes rested on her, he recognized the signs of feeling flooding her and almost immediately she was shivering and his arms were wrapping around her to infuse her with his warmth

Just like that, he wasn't angry. How could he be when he could have lost her today? The thought caused him to squeeze her a little harder than he meant to and he felt her sigh and relax into him.

"I missed you." She murmured against his neck, her voice clear and it soothed him to his very core.

Once again, he had a stunning realization with her there, in his arms. What he was feeling...it was love. He loved her.

Spot Conlon, recklessly in love with a girl who was suddenly being watched by a crime lord that was also her father. He could laugh at how ridiculous it all sounded, but every word of it was true.

A throat cleared, causing him to open his eyes and it took a moment for him to absorb the fact that there was another person there. Specifically, a boy and by the looks of him, this was her neighbor. The spy. Slowly, he dropped his arms from around her and pushed her gently out of the way before taking a deep breath in and then rushing to tackle the guy.

 **A/N: Finished the semester Sunday night so expect faster updates! But, that doesn't mean I don't want to hear how you guys are liking the chapter! Leave me a review, please! (And a TON of thanks to Pixielou, Kit Auralee, and my guest reviewer for always reviewing!)**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	25. Chapter 25

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

Spot tackled the bastard to the ground and was pulling back his fist to clock him mere seconds after he'd gotten through Eden's door. He managed one good hit on Seth, satisfaction rolling through him as a plume of blood immediately burst from the kid's nose, the bright red seeming to only feed Spot's anger. He was pulling back with his other fist just as he felt Eden grab a hold of him around the waist and haul him off Seth.

"Spot!" Eden's reprimanding tone was more furious than he had ever heard and right in his ear as she asked, "What the hell?"

He got his feet under him, rising and backing them both away from Seth, his eyes meeting her blazing green ones. He had underestimated how strong she was, part of him caught off guard enough to be impressed and forget the fact that she was pissed as hell at him. Seth attempted to stand, his hands cupped around his bloody nose as she dropped her arms from around him and began pushing him across the room to the mattress. Forcefully, she knocked him back onto it, "Stay there and calm down. You will give me a _full_ explanation as soon as I clean him up." The thunderous look on her face was enough to stun him in place for a moment.

But, then he stood to pace back and forth as she wetted a rag and began cleaning up Seth, who stood silently as he gazed between the two with a wariness of a kitten among tigers.

"I'm sorry." Seth murmured to her and Spot scowled at him as Eden's face fell to one of sympathy.

"It is not your fault." She told him gently, tossing a glare at Spot before cupping the back of Seth's head and nudging it back, "Tip your head back until the bleeding stops." She instructed, before her eyes caught something, "What's this scar here?" She moved her hand from his head to brush the scar on his neck and they watched the young man flinch just a bit and pull back from her.

"It's nothing." He replied, sounding muffled as he held the rag to his nose and closed his eyes.

Spot felt jealousy bristle through him as he caught the soft look on Eden's face and he felt the strong sense of urgency to ruin it, "He's a spy, Eden." He bit out, halting his pacing to fold his arms across his chest. It satisfied him that Seth just stood there, listening but not denying it.

Her face hardened as she turned narrowed eyes on him, "A spy? For who? Who could possibly want to spy on me?" She was angrier than he'd ever seen her, but if he could just make her understand, she would forgive him for this.

"Ya fathah." He let the words out before thinking about it, but the reactions of Seth and Eden were very different.

Eden scoffed, a huff of laughter as her face filled with disbelief at his words just as Seth's head swung forward, his exclamation one of utter horror as he only got one letter out, "Q?!"

Spot raised an eyebrow at Seth, "Ya didn't know?" He asked, feeling some of the tension come out of his muscles. Why did Seth think Quentin was keeping an eye on Eden if he didn't know? "What do you know?" He asked as Eden looked between the two of them, his tone a little more aggressive than he really meant. Seth's threat to Eden didn't feel as urgent as it had when he first caught sight of the tall, oriental kid.

"Q?" Eden asked, looking less than confident about what was going on for a second before she squared her shoulders and pointed to the small table, "Sit and tell me everything."

Seth moved at once to sit, tilting his head back once more as Spot took a little longer to follow her order. He stopped in front of her as he reached a hand out slowly and was prepared for her to spit fire at him. When she didn't, he softly touched her arm and whispered, "I was only trying ta protect ya."

She softened, the fire in her green eyes all but disappearing as she gazed up at him, "Tell me what's going on. Where were you last night?" The vulnerability there struck him hard, and he felt a tad defensive at her question. While he was looking out for her, she was here cooking for someone else.

"Why? Want ta know tha next time you can make someone else dinnah?"

Eden's head tilted, her face blanking almost back to that apathetic look she got before they discovered he could make her feel and she gazed at him so long and so hard, he grew uncomfortable by it but he didn't back down, only continued to hold her gaze defiantly until she sighed and sat at the table, "I meant that dinner to be for you." She said, "But, Hoot told me you weren't coming and then told me to stay away from Seth. I don't like being told what to do, Spot."

Her honesty, as always, took the fire out of him and he quietly absorbed the fact that she had planned to make him dinner. If it wasn't for the news of Quentin Barclay, or Hoot over hearing his and Jack's conversation, he would have been here and she would have made it for him, "I know ya don't, Eden. And I wouldnta told ya you couldn't hang out with him. I'd have told ya the truth. He's planted here ta spy on ya." He finally answered her.

"My name is Sam." Seth, or Sam, finally spoke up, his eyes on the ceiling as he continued to tip his head back, "I used ta be a Queens newsie until a week or so ago when my fathah told me I had ta join Q's gang…He's in it and they peddle drugs outta his bar."

Spot finally pulled a chair out, turning it around backwards and sitting with his arms crossed on the back of the chair, eyes steady on Sam, "Midnight." He said, realizing too late that he looked familiar, and Sam nodded in response.

"Q was interested in Slips. I tried ta sway his interest elsewhere, to Eden because…because I didn't know her and I wanted ta protect Slips. But, then I got ta know ya an-" He was interrupted by a frantic knock at the door.

"Spot! You in there?" The voice on the other side was just as desperate as the knock and Eden got up to answer. Spot quickly moved to intercept her, shooting her a warning glance before hesitantly looking through the peephole.

Relaxing just a touch, he opened the door for Louisiana, Slips' second, "Lou?" He said, as Sam echoed him from inside, both surprised.

"Midnight?" Lou asked, gaze slipping past him before he shook his head, "Slips is gone. The Lodging House got raided by these men, big hulkin' men, and she heard and went there to stop them and they took her! We gotta find her!"

Spot looked back at Sam, who had paled considerably, "Would that be Q's men?"

He pulled the bloody rag from his face, setting it on the table as he stood, "Probably. If Q has Slips, his next step will be coming for Eden."

Eden's sudden laugh turned two sets of brown eyes and one set of blue her way and she looked half mad and half ferocious, "He ain't comin' for me. I'm going for him." She all but snarled as she started towards the door.

Reaching out, Spot slid an arm around her waist, halting her from running off, "Eden. Think about this logically." He whispered softly in her ear. "We need ta know what he wants, we need a plan." He wasn't sure if it was what he said, or the way he squeezed her just a tad, bringing her back to reality with feeling. He felt her relax against his arm and she pressed her face into his shoulder.

"Alright, let's make a plan." She finally conceded.

* * *

He stared at Slips with hard eyes and she glared back at him defiantly with her unique, opal eyes. She was continually trying to wiggle out of the ropes as she screamed muffled curses at them through the gag in her mouth. He despised her and he had no idea why. Her gumption, her fire…it annoyed him and he glared at her before walking out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. His eyes searched for his second and he found him off to the side, going over some inventory and his anger drove him across the room in only a few, long strides.

"Were. My. Orders. To. Kidnap. Her?" Quentin snarled in Rob's ear, causing his second to tense up.

Slowly, Rob turned to face him. He was short and stocky built, weak enough in character for Quentin to manipulate easily, but strong enough to generally follow his orders and enforce his rules. "Look, Q, she came in on da whole opahration. We couldn't just let her go!"

"You could and should have. I wanted the drugs, not the headache of some teenage girl and the newsboys who will try to rescue her. The last thing we want around here is _kids_." Saying the words brought to mind his own, but they would be different. Once Quentin got a feel for Eden, he'd know what her job with them would be. He already knew she was a hard worker-Sue always was and would only hire someone with the same ethic. With Jack's charisma and selling, and however Quentin decided Eden fit in, they could own all of New York and his empire would stay in the family and last for generations. They would be untouchable. His mind raced with future plans.

It did not include some teeny bopper and her army of ragged, dirty boys. "Dump her back on the street."

"But, she knows ya behind it! She'll tell people ya kidnapped her. Go ta da bulls!"

Quentin, fury bubbling like lava in his veins, watched but not so much as consciously thought about the action of slamming his hand into Rob's throat and pressing him against the wall, "What do we do here, Rob? We push drugs. Drug her and toss her back on the street." He squeezed Rob's throat a little harder, cutting off air supply for good measure, before dropping the shorter man. His legs collapsed and he wheezed. Disgusted, Quentin left him there but as he passed the room where the girl was, he paused.

After all, she did know his daughter.

Re-entering the small room, he took in the news girl once more and reached over to pull down the gag. She looked ready to hurl more curses at him so he placed his hand over her mouth, "Before you speak, I want you to know I didn't order them to take you. I don't want you here anymore than you want to be here. If you cooperate, I won't drug you and leave you in the gutter."

That made her pause and he stepped back, "I know you." She said, after a moment, eyes narrowed as she tried to pinpoint his face, "You used to come in my father's wig shop."

He ran a hand over his bald head and smirked, "Yes. Gordon Foster's wig shop was the best cover for the drugs we brought in. Worked that I'm bald."

Her eyes grew large and round as she realized what he was saying, "M-my father would never…" But she trailed off, as if she was finally connecting old memories.

In the corner of the room was a table and on it was a crate of random items from the Lodging House and Quentin moved over to rifle through them and pull out the long looked for item that had slipped through the hands of this drug operation six years ago, "Of course you believed your father would never peddle drugs, but for the use of his shop, he got a nice hefty sum each month that gave you a nice, comfortable childhood." He leaned on the table, item in hand as Slips watched him, her brows furrowing on the object he picked out, "However, your father was a drug smuggler, Ms. Foster. No sugar coating it. He worked for my boss, Duncan. On the day he died, he was smuggling in a particularly pure batch of costly cocaine. Pure, strong, and sure to give us many addicted buyers."

"The porcelain doll?" Slips asked, eyes dropping from his to the delicate doll. It stared vacantly, its pale, colorless face framed by wheat hair, "He bought that for me. I told him I was too old for dollies." The blue dress it wore was dusty and wrinkled from its place in the box.

Quentin paused in the silence after her words before he lifted the doll and then brought its head down on the corner of the table, smashing the fragile material, the force and sound of the porcelain breaking was near deafening in the small room. Amid the noise, a thud was heard as a brown paper bag fell out of the doll and onto the floor. Gently, Quentin scooped up the bag and weighed it in his hand. "This little bag cost Duncan his drug ring, and gave me the opportunity to take over."

She let out a harsh laugh, "So, why am I here if all you need is that?"

Scowling, Quentin moved back around to face her, "My men weren't supposed to take you. But, now that I've got you here…might as well get a little information..." He paused again, because he liked the dramatic effect of it all, "I believe you are acquainted with my daughter, Eden Sullivan?"

 **A/N: Loving all my reviewers and new readers! Welcome and very excited to hear how you all are enjoying this reboot. Much love and thanks to Pixielou, KitAuralee, Grauity Lucci, and Ms. Pentagon as well as my various guest reviewers! I love you all and hope everyone had a great holiday! Drop me a review, please!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	26. Chapter 26

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

The drug runners of Queens, those involved with Quentin's operation, held their main quarters to the northeast of the borough, in an old, grey warehouse that sat near the docks that reached out on Flushing Bay. The neighborhood was referred to as College Point, but it felt as though we were a million miles away from anybody else. The evening air had been chilly when Spot stood beside me, but now I was blissfully numb to the cold, lingering hands of the last vestiges of winter. A part of me wished to jump ahead to spring, to skip the events that would happen once Jack and I stepped foot into the building in front of us.

"Ya sure about this?" Jack's words were whispered, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his face shadowed from the street lamp by the rim of his ridiculous cowboy hat. While he slouched to look relaxed, I noticed the tenseness of his shoulders, the way he shifted nervously from foot to foot.

It was Spot's one request, since I wouldn't budge on the fact that it needed to be me who went in there and Spot certainly couldn't accompany me in there. If my father resorted to violence, I couldn't have Spot there making me vulnerable. Making me feel. He had been frustrated and angry with me for stonewalling his presence, but it wasn't something I felt good agreeing to.

The thought of him getting hurt because of me…I realized he had felt that, when I had taken that knife meant for him. How sick and awful it must have been, knowing that pain was meant for you and watching someone you love take it ( _not_ that I was sure what he felt for me was love). However, I couldn't even bare to imagine it. It gave me a new respect for Spot Conlon, as if my feelings for him weren't strong enough.

I glanced over to Jack, glad I had relented to the suggestion, glad he'd agreed to come. Because, honestly, it felt right. It felt as though it had to be the both of us, the kids of Elizabeth Sullivan and Quentin Barclay. I paused as I mulled that over, "Why do we have ma's last name?" I asked Jack out of the blue, instead of answering his question.

I didn't see it, but I could feel him roll his eyes at me, "Why don't ya ask ouah fathah when we see him?"

We stood there a moment in silence as I mulled his answer over. I already had so many questions for my father; what was one more? But, what if he was not inclined to discuss the past? Silently, I fretted. The plan we were going in with was loose, at best, and would be a disaster at worst. I did wish that Spot was here. His cold calmness in the face of danger was more welcome to me than Jack's irritation and nervousness.

"I can't believe we're doin' this." Jack muttered, readjusting his hat and fidgeting to the point where he was actually annoying me. "Aftah I heard his name, paired with the stories told…No one changed their name faster than me." He told me briskly, chestnut colored eyes trained on the grey building.

Thus, the explanation for Jack's name change. It irritated me that he was only a year older, yet seemed to remember more than me. Our father's name and my mother's effect on me…what else did Jack remember that he didn't believe I was interested in knowing? Or that he thought I already knew? We were going to have to have a long chat about our past when all of this was through.

A flutter of nerves turned over in my stomach and I sighed, "At least you knew what he was up to. I didn't even know he was out of jail or alive."

Jack didn't meet my eyes, "Sorry. We just started bein' a family, ya know? I didn't know how ta bring it up."

A whistle pierced the air, breaking off our conversation and Jack finally stilled as we listened to the sharp, noise. Two long whistles and one short signaled that all of Spot's birds were in place, that we could head in. Once we were through those doors, there was no turning back. I glanced up to the building to my right, knowing Spot was up there on the roof, watching silently. It gave me peace of mind, but only for a moment. Once we crossed that threshold, we were on our own. It was Jack and I going in blind. Although Sam told us about the inner workings of the gang, there wasn't much he could tell us about Q.

"Alright, let's get this ovah with." Jack grumbled.

We crossed the street, bee-lining straight for the front door. We weren't going to sneak around, if Quentin was interested in us I had pressed to Jack that we weren't going to be sneaky about it-like he had been. We were going to meet him head-on. I had no patience for lies and deceit. Not after things with Spot and Slips. Give me the cold, hard truth over sugar-coated lies any day.

I let Jack pound on the front door. He did so three times and then stepped back to wait and fidget with his hat and the bandanna around his throat. "Calm down." I whispered to him, "Be cool."

"Be cool." He scoffed as the door opened and we both straightened and stilled.

The man who opened the door glared out into the dying light of day and growled, "Whatya street rats want?" He was big and imposing, but dirty and foul smelling, with stringy hair that I couldn't quite determine the color of.

Jack answered, as we had discussed. I wanted the opportunity to be overlooked, to watch and to decide what to do. Jack was a charming distraction, I'd decide what action needed to be taken to get us out alive-if there was a chance we might not. "We're here ta see Quentin Barclay."

"Does he want ta see you?" The man sneered the question, making it sound as though we were little more than bugs beneath his feet.

I watched as my elbow jutted out to nudge Jack in the ribs and he gritted his teeth and bit out, "Tell him his son and daughtah are here ta pay a visit." Jack's voice was just as sneering, and I felt a wave of satisfaction as the dirty man's eyes widened and he closed the door in our faces.

However, we could hear him yelling to someone and there seemed to be a flurry of activity behind the door. After a few minutes, things calmed down but we were left to wait outside. "This is just rude." Jack told me, folding his arms across his chest and slouching against the side of the building. It amused me that Jack was worried about this apparent rudeness, but I patiently waited. They may not have been expecting us and perhaps Quentin was preparing his torture chamber.

The thought caught me off guard, made me wonder why I was thinking the worst of him. Was it because he'd gone to jail and abandoned his family? Was it because of all the things Sam, Spot, and Jack had told me of Q, the most wanted man in New York?

Before I could ascertain the reason for it, the door once more swung open and Jack straightened and stepped half in front of me as the stringy-haired man sort of nodded his head at us and waved us in.

Jack passed a glance to me and then stepped in first as I followed close behind him. The door shutting at our backs gave me the feeling of the final nail in the coffin. It was chilling, but I tried to push away the feeling, brace myself for the coming confrontation. I was about to meet the man I shared genetics with. It felt slightly momentous.

We were led through a maze of hallways, doors, and rooms until finally, we came out of a back door, outside once more. Jack looked surprised, his gaze trailing to the west where the last bit of light was falling behind the horizon. I looked ahead, to the dock we were headed towards and the boat at the end.

It bobbed in the water, almost an exact replica of Sue's boat, but where the name _Daybreak_ was on Sue's, Quentin's boat was named _The Telltale Heart_. I felt a shiver of anticipation and fear creep up my spine. Quentin was clever. Cleverer than I had estimated and I felt a stab of annoyance that I hadn't gone to see Sue. I should have asked him about my father so I knew what to expect going in.

And then, almost too suddenly, we were boarding the boat and the man leading us showed us to a small cabin where a lone oil lamp sat on a table with four chairs, lit and flickering merrily. "Take a seat." The man said, then left. We didn't, we stood and listened as the anchor was pulled up and the boat lurched away from the docks. Jack and I cast each other looks of dismay, both of us not expecting the sudden turn of events.

"How-" Jack started, just as the door opened and a tall figure stood in the shadows for a moment, gazing quietly at us.

"Children." The man's voice came out of the shadows and Jack and I both watched as he stepped into the light from the oil lamp on the table. He wasn't quite what I was expecting, his green eyes glittered in the light like jewels and his bald head shined. Everything about him seemed to cast kaleidoscopic colors-as a warning.

Like when the brightest, most colorful animals were also filled with poison.

His gaze was intent upon me, ignoring Jack completely. It made me think, briefly, of Spot, who had always watched me with such interest. Instead of warming me as Spot's tended to do, it ran my blood cold.

A smile twitched the corner of his mouth at our continued silence, but I imagined it would look more like a self-satisfied sneer than a true smile. "What do you think of my boat?" He asked, his eyes were similar to mine, but colder. They held shards of grey steel in them as they perused us and calculated.

Jack shrugged as I spoke, "Nice enough. I'm not a fan of Poe, but it'd be a good fishing boat otherwise."

The flame of the oil lamp flickered as the boat gently rocked on the waves and a smile slowly pulled across the man's face, "Not a Poe fan?" His head cocked to the right as he came closer to us, eyes hungrily soaking in the sight of me. I felt nervous and uncomfortable, and wished for Spot to be there more than anything.

I continued to meet his gaze unwaveringly as I chose my words, "I believe it was Bliss Perry who wrote that it's criminal to criticize Longfellow. Poe accused Longfellow of plagiarizing."

Quentin Barclay's gaze sharpened at my words, the obvious interest intensifying as he absorbed my words. He straightened, surprised, and then…

He laughed.

* * *

Spot watched with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as Eden and Jack stepped into the old, grey warehouse. Not a minute later, a bird climbed up the fire escape. Spot turned to meet Card's soft, watery blue eyes. "Whatya got for me?" He asked the bird.

Card's eyes were more watery than usual, and he shifted, "They found Slips."

Lou, who had been standing next to Sam beside Spot, gasped, "Where? Is she alright?" He rushed to the bird and grabbed him by the shoulders.

The bird, older than Hoot, but not as old as Jay, didn't look surprised at the manhandling but Spot stepped over to put a hand on Louisiana's shoulder, "Take it easy. Give Card a second." Spot murmured in his ear, aware they both were worried about their girls.

Lou dropped his hands and Card gazed bleakly at Spot, who gave an encouraging nod, before telling them the truth, "She's fine, now. Safe at the Lodging House. But, when they found her she was wandering around Rosedale…sort of drugged." It was obvious Card didn't like delivering this awful news, and he winced and backed away like they would take it out on him. Spot placed a hand on his shoulder as Sam's gasp brought reality crashing down. Lou moved into action, pushing passed Card and Spot to take the fire escape back down.

Rosedale was on the other side of Queens, it would take entirely too long to get there and Spot wasn't about to abandon Eden alone to this crazed, demented man who would drug a sixteen year old girl.

"Spot." Sam's whisper brought him back to where they were on the roof, and he turned to see what Sam was looking at. Horror filling him as he realized what was going on below.

At the back side of the warehouse were four docks, probably where the goods were brought in before this warehouse became a den for drugs, and they could just make out the form of Eden and Jack as they followed a man down the middle dock. At the end of it was a fishing trawler, not unlike the one Eden worked on, and they watched in horror as Jack and Eden got on the boat.

After a few minutes, the boat pulled away from the docks and out onto the bay.

Spot was moving before it pulled up anchor. He hadn't told Eden about his backup plan, hadn't warned her, because he hadn't known Q would lead her out onto his own boat. But silently, he thanked his lucky stars he had contacted Sue before they left Brooklyn.

 **A/N: Whew, sorry it took so long for this but everything has to be perfect for you all. Thank you to Kit Auralee, my guest reviewer and Pixielou! You guys rock for reviewing all the time! And thank you for those reading! Drop me a review!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	27. Chapter 27

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

She was the one. The heir to all he had built. He knew it the minute he'd laid eyes on her, walking fearlessly towards his headquarters next to a less than fearless Jack Kelly. He sneered to himself thinking of his son who, while charming, couldn't hold a candle to Eden. _His daughter_.

There were only a handful of things Quentin knew about her. Sam had mentioned that her face was often void of feeling, that she kept a close reign on her emotions, and rarely moved more than she needed to. He picked this up as he watched her and Jack walk down the docks to his boat, avidly soaking in the quick, albeit odd, way she walked, and the way she seemed to pick up on everything around her. Her eyes, the same vivid green as his own, darting around as she analyzed her environment. He could all but see her calculating how they would get out of here.

Now, as she stood in the tiny cabin of the boat, she was no less striking. He knew, too, that she would be intelligent, as Slips had informed him, as well as brave. He'd grilled the Queens girl about her friend for an hour to make sure she didn't leave anything out. Once he was satisfied she hadn't, he had his boys drop her off in Rosedale, perhaps forgetting to mention they didn't need to give her anything to keep her lucid and quiet.

Her comments on Poe and Longfellow, though, had still surprised a laugh out of him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed at something that honestly surprised him. She was everything he needed and more. Groomed and tutored by him, taught his ways of coercion and ruthlessness, she'd be a force to be reckoned with.

"You are intelligent." He finally told her after his laughter died down. Jack and Eden stood side by side; she was collected, back straight and she stood still as Jack shoved his hands into his pocket and slouched against the wall beside her. They were as different as day and night.

"I know." She replied, no trace of gloating; she was agreeing to the statement as though it was a common fact. It was nice to see she wasn't modest as most feeble, weak females were.

He wondered if he could disarm her, so he added "Just like your mother, but much more than you seem on the surface. Like me."

Still, no emotion seemed to register on her face, her green eyes watching him but not with the wariness that Jack seemed to have. She was curious. He would use this to gain her loyalty. "Come now, there must be something that you would like to ask me?"

Her head tilted just a touch and she glanced to Jack before she met his eyes, "Yes, actually. Why did Ma give us her last name?"

Cunning. The little beast knew the exact question to ask that would infuriate him if it had been anyone else inquiring. Elizabeth Sullivan had known it would emasculate and cause him great humiliation for her to gift their children with her name. Robbing him of his progeny. A slap in the face to him, just because he hadn't been around enough. "Your mother thought you should have her last name since I wasn't around." He could not hide the anger and sullenness form his words. This particular area was a great bother to him.

Eden's left eyebrow lifted just a touch, but her face was blank as she absorbed his words. Silently, he marveled at her. He wanted to see her in any given situation, to see if she could wield power as coldly as she viewed the world. He wondered if he could get her to turn on her own brother…The thought was an enticing one. "I guess we should get down to business." Eden's words were straightforward and blunt, breaking him from his quickly forming plan. She did not employ the same rough, New York accent as her brother, and he once more was awed by her.

"No more questions?" Quentin inquired, moving closer and sitting half on the table in the room, one knee bent and his hands braced on it. He was leaning forward, eyes trained only on Eden.

"Yeah, I got one. Whatya want from us?" Jack straightened, breaking into the conversation and causing Quentin to clench his teeth and turn his eyes on his son.

The disappointment.

"Nothing from you, _Jack_." He told the kid, "Although, I suppose you would be a good salesman. You've been selling newspapers for so long, drugs will be easy." He tilted his head as he thought aloud, and wasn't paying much attention to either of them.

Jack moved, as though to attack him, but Eden was there, between them. Her back was to Quentin, but she was close enough that her long, mahogany hair was brushing against his hands still braced on his leg. "Jack." She said, softly, "Step back." The warning was there, though, and Jack backed down.

"I ain't no drug dealer." He muttered as he rolled his shoulders, brown eyes defiantly meeting Quentin's over her head.

Quentin appreciated his fire, but he liked Eden's defense of him more. He stood and placed a hand on Eden's shoulder, "Thank you, daughter." He squeezed it, surprised at how thin she was.

It was as if she didn't even know he was touching her, didn't even bat an eyelash at his hands grip. She turned, not even looking at his hand, and regarded him, "I'm not protecting you from him again. If you're not interested in Jack, what are you interested in?" He let his hand slide from her shoulder, his eyes narrowed slightly as she stepped back, unaware of his touch. Something niggled in the back of his mind. Some remark Birdie had made once when she visited him or in one of the very few letters she wrote. For some reason, he couldn't recall exactly what it was, but it ate at him.

Jack glared at her as he moved away from them both, as far across the little cabin as he could get, "Ain't it obvious, Eden? He's lookin' at you like he just hit gold."

The smallest pinch formed between her eyebrows as she turned back to Quentin, "Is this true?"

He relaxed, folding his arms across his chest to keep from touching her again. He didn't like touching anymore, not since Birdie died, so he was surprised to feel the need to touch Eden. He watched Jack from the corner of his eye as he replied, "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in sparking up a familial relationship."

His son scoffed, turning his back on the two of them to peer out one of the windows, "He's lookin' foah someone ta take ovah the family business." He interpreted.

His words drew Eden's gaze, her green eyes contemplating her brother before she turned back to Quentin, "Family business…as in selling drugs." She deadpanned these words, as if she were speaking of any normal family business.

He shrugged easily, "It could be just like your fishing job now. We can re-work the operation to include some…fishing. Except it won't be fish. You'd be training to take over, so you could tag along with me. Learn the men you control and you'll eventually get the cut of money you deserve. It's much more lucrative than fishing." His plan had always been to snare her in with the familiar, entice her by showing her the change into her new line of work wouldn't be much different from what she did now. Except she'd be trading Sue up for her _real_ father. He tried not to let the irritation at the thought of Sue's obvious fondness for her register on his face as he waited for her reply.

Eden shifted slightly, and closed her eyes as though thinking his words through, "I could take over." She murmured, causing Jack to turn from the window to gape at her as she thought aloud, "Replace the men of yours I don't like or trust with men of my own. Men loyal to me. Perhaps Spot." She opened her eyes as she pondered aloud, "No bulls would expect newsies to be dealing. We could take over the daytime scene as well as the night. Jack, with your help, we can rope in the Manhattan boys. That's a lot of territory to control. We would rule New York." The words were so frank, so matter-of-fact, that it took Quentin a second to understand what she was saying.

Her quick, brilliant plan, brainstormed in the matter of minutes, unfurled in his own mind and he almost got high off of the idea of taking over the entire city. With his daughter, their power and cleverness combined, they would be invincible. There wouldn't be a city block, street corner, or alley their power could not reach. It would dawn a new era of New York City.

Quentin narrowed his eyes as Jack was crossed over to her, his hands gripping her by the shoulder as he shook her slightly, "Ya don't want this, Eden. Whatya tawkin' about? Spot isn't going ta suddenly become a drug dealer and neithah are you."

He disliked the manhandling and reached out to grab Eden and jerk her from Jack's grip, "Let her go, boy." Once more, he gazed at her as he gripped her arm. Her face reminding him, quite suddenly, of the porcelain doll he'd broken in front of Slips; a vacant expression on her face.

Without really processing what he was doing, he began to tighten his grip on her arm, watching as she looked between Jack and Quentin, oblivious to the agonizing pressure he was attempting to make her feel.

She didn't feel.

All at once he let her go, not that she noticed, as she told Jack, "Spot would follow me anywhere."

His mind raced as he finally recalled the letter Birdie had written him, not long before she died, informing him that she was scared of what would become of their daughter. She had mentioned, vaguely, that Eden only responded to Birdie's touch. Which hadn't meant anything to him at the time, but after seeing it for himself, it was clicking into place. Eden was…numb.

Jack was bickering with Eden as Quentin hung back, realization dawning on him and all the ways he could use this particular…talent of hers, to his advantage. "He's got a mind of his own, Eden. Even Spot would question this plan."

Quentin watched as she turned her head and checked to see her shoulder shrug, "Then, we would take Brooklyn without his permission. Right, father?" She turned back to Quentin and he ignored her words, his entire body tensing in anticipation. Another sign that meant she couldn't feel. He wasn't crazy.

"All good ideas, my dear." He purred, switching his tone from fatherly to predatory. He wanted to see how much she could take, how this numbness worked, "However, before you go making too many plans, there _is_ a slight test to prove your loyalty."

"Such as?" She inquired, her eyes traveling around the room, searching for some hidden test.

He grinned and he wasn't sure it was a nice grin, "Pick up that oil lamp."

Greedily, he watched her as she did as she was told, the only sign she wasn't quite on board with it was the narrowing of her eyes. A knock on the door broke the silence before she could open her mouth and Quentin turned narrow eyes on the door as Alvin opened it, "Sir, there's another boat approaching."

Waving Alvin away, he turned back to his children. "Now, pour the oil on your left hand and use the fire to light it."

* * *

Sue's boat was anchored at a dock that was three blocks away and every second counted. Spot's lungs burned as he ran for it. What were the chances Quentin would take them out on a boat? He couldn't believe his luck that he had contacted Sue before leaving Brooklyn. His gut had insisted and he thanked his lucky stars that he listened. He nearly slid as his feet hit the wet, slippery boards as he ran down the dock number he had told Sue to be at.

"Sue!" He called out, hoping the man was prepared for anything, "Sue! He's got her out on a boat on the bay!" Leaping from the docks, he bent his knees as he braced to hit the deck and nearly stumbled into Sue, who came from the cabin at his shouting.

"He's got her on a boat?" Sue asked, as he started prepping the boat for launch.

A second set of feet hit the deck and Spot turned to meet Sam's gaze. "Did you know he'd take her out on a boat?" Spot asked him, getting in the kids face because he was furious at the turn of events and scared for Eden. He needed to take it out on someone.

Sam shook his head resolutely, not backing down as Spot got in his personal space, "No, but I took a second ta tell a Bull that if he wanted to raid a big drug ring to check out that warehouse."

Spot turned as the whistles started, echoing through the night as they took up the other's calls. He was never one to trust the police officers of New York, most would send you to the refuge quicker than believe a story of drug dealing, but it seemed the one Sam had stopped to talk to was of a different variety.

"We gotta get going. Get to them before the bulls do, before Quentin hurts her." Spot said as he turned to see Sue pulling up anchor and firing up the steam engine. The loudness seemed to cut through the night air similar to the whistles. It was a cacophony of noises that would imprint in Spot's mind as he stepped to the front of _Daybreak_ and tried to see in the dark for any hint of the boat that had Eden.

When it came into view, he called out into the night, hoping her hearing would pick up his words, "Sue and me are comin', Eden. Just hang on a little longah and don't do anything stupid."

 **A/N: Review, please!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

In the short amount of time I had known my father one thing became abundantly clear; he was absolutely nuts. I wondered when his madness started setting in, whether it was before he went to jail or during his time there. Or perhaps it was after he met my mother…or maybe he'd always been as mad as a March hare. Which seemed likely when I began to suspect this entire boat had been purchased just for the sake of luring me onto it. Especially his comment on going fishing on it…for drugs.

Except, I had ruined the preemptive planning by coming to the warehouse of my own free will.

And now, I was also beginning to suspect that he somehow figured out that I couldn't feel. Which is crazy because who in their right mind would come to that conclusion? Someone off their rocker, clearly. However, Jack and I should have come up with a signal in case he touched me so I could pretend to feel. I hadn't expected him to be intelligent or insane enough to discover my secret in the twenty minutes or so we'd been here on the boat.

 _"Don't do anything stupid."_ I heard Sue's boat and Spot's voice before his man had alerted Quentin, but I was afraid I might not be able to keep from doing something stupid. Since the moment I got on this ridiculous set-up boat, I had been planning to cooperate with my father long enough to get us off of it. However, it seemed my plans weren't going to hold up on this particular phase.

I gripped the oil lamp, contemplating my hand and the lamp in question. Its base was cobalt blue glass, the flame encased by the clear glass, or chimney, flickered merrily. All I had to do was unscrew the base and take a moment to pour the kerosene on my hand. Then, set down the lamp, take off the chimney, and light it up.

Or I could throw it to the ground and burn us all.

"Eden, don't do it." Jack whispered, stepping up beside me. My eyes flickered to his, warm and concerned. Likely because I was making diabolical plans to take over the city with our father. I think it was probably good I hadn't told him my plans, his part had been played honestly and he genuinely thought I was going to take over our father's drug operation. That made me wonder if craziness ran in the family, because even though we didn't have much of a relationship, Jack should at least know I wasn't the kind of person who would make others addicted to harmful substances just to make a living. Wasn't I always upfront and honest? How many drugs could I really sell by telling people straight up how they were ruining their lives for a quick high and spending money better used to clothe and feed their children?

Mentally shaking away my rambling thoughts, I turned my eyes from Jack's to meet Quentin's stare. He remained quiet, not even bothering to tell Jack to shut up, as his green eyes gleamed menacingly. He was either calling my bluff on the act to join him or he was interested in my state of unfeeling. I was betting on the latter. Some sick, answering part of me wanted to stun him with it.

Which meant doing something stupid.

"I don't have all night, my dear." Quentin said, lightly but with a hard edge to his voice. Sucking in some air, I listened as _Daybreak_ got closer, but not close enough. I watched with a touch of apathy as my hands began twisting the base from the chimney, watched as my right hand dumped the kerosene on my left, the sharp perfume of the oil seemed to burn my nose hairs. I watched as I re-screwed the base on and set it on the table so that I could take off the chimney and place my hand on the flame. I took off the chimney but, I didn't light my hand on fire.

I did, however, light the boat on fire.

Completely by accident, of course. I had thrown that idea out, in care of my brother, yet, Sue's boat was a lot closer than I had calculated. The crazy old coot must have decided he wasn't going to slow down and wait for us to get off this boat. No, he decided he was going to just plow into _The TellTale Heart_ with _Daybreak_.

Full steam ahead.

The impact of the boat sent the oil lamp flying off the table where it landed none too gently, the wooden boards lighting up as the pretty cobalt base smashed, the kerosene splattering out in all directions as Jack pushed me away from it. Quentin yelled out as he pushed the table onto the flames and moved towards us. Jack jumped forward to block him from reaching me, but Quentin was stronger and crazier, easily sending Jack over his shoulder and the Cowboy hit the wall right by the cabin door.

The sudden chaos that erupted stunned me briefly. Part of me felt robbed of my moment to shock my father, as weird as that sounded, and I didn't even realize that I was tumbling to the floor from Jack's shove. It was nice of him to care about my well-being, it was not nice to be pushed around. My face connected with the floor just as Spot shouldered the cabin door open, stopping in the doorway to take in the scene before him.

Immediately, feeling swarmed through my body like a hive of bees. I could suddenly feel the sting of where my face had met the floor, my cheek bone and the protruding bone above my eye taking the brunt of it all. I could feel the warm, wetness of the kerosene oil that covered my left hand and a slight throbbing on my upper arm for some reason.

Oh, and the heat of the fire as it licked over the floorboards.

It took mere seconds for me to digest all of this and I pushed myself up to my feet as Spot said my name over the roar of the flames. I was looking at him, so distracted by his rescue and the mere sight of him, that I didn't see my father coming for me.

"I will not let you get away!" Quentin's words were soft, but held such determination that it startled me as his hand wrapped around my arm and he yanked me towards the flames that were beginning to spread throughout the cabin. He was still trying to test out my sense of feeling and panic set in at the thought of burning.

I yelped at his tight grip and he froze for a moment in surprise, but he didn't drop my arm, "You can feel?" He asked, narrowing his eyes and acting as if we weren't on a boat that was simultaneously burning and sinking. I avoided his gaze, searching for Spot who had gotten Jack out of the cabin and was now returning. A flash of irritation struck through me, wondering why he helped Jack first as Quentin looked beyond me to Spot as well. The King of Brooklyn was stalking towards us with an expression that would scare the devil. "The boy makes you feel." Again, I was struck by how psycho my father was-despite the fact that he was one hundred percent accurate.

Turning to meet the eyes that were as green as summer leaves, bright, intelligent eyes, I felt a sudden stab of regret. This man before me was so incredibly perceptive, could have done anything with his astute, resourcefulness and somewhere along the lines he had gone mad. I briefly imagined what it would be like to grow up with him as a father, teaching me things only he knew. Not the criminal things, but the people things; the reasons behind why he thought buying this boat and tantalizing me with familiar things would tempt me to join him. He had at least somewhat of a grasp on feelings, what people yearned for, in order to be in the business he was in.

I shook away the imaginings, realizing too late that I was mourning something that would never be. I was mourning _him_ before I really even knew how this night would end.

His gripped tightened, as if the thought of someone making me feel infuriated him, and for a second it did hurt. But, not for long. As he squeezed me, I felt my numbness trickle up my arm, but only that arm. _Strange_ , I thought as I felt Spot's hand, much more gentle than Quentin's, grab my other arm to pull me away from my father and the flames. His other arm slipped around my waist, giving him more of a handle on me than my father and easily pulling me out of his reach.

The jerk of my arm from his grasp made Quentin stumble back a step, but the blaze had just reached him and immediately his pant leg caught fire, the flames climbing up his leg and he stood there, staring at me, not making a sound. I cried out as Spot pulled me away, unthinkingly reaching out to pull him from the flames, but Spot was quick and we were already out of the cabin and into the brisk, March air that cut through me like daggers. "Spot! We can't let him die!" I pulled against Spot's grip and his arm tightened around me.

"It's us or him, Eden." Spot said, frankly, just as I heard my father's roar of pain and frustration. "We gotta get off this boat."

I stared at Spot, the echo of my father's scream doing something to me…numbness tingled over me as I realized that there was a very good chance I just let my father die and I did nothing to save him…

"Spot!" Sue's voice carried over the sounds of the night; groaning of the boats as they both took on water, the fire still roaring behind us while concurrently sizzling as the water reached it, and my father's scream. I looked over to see that Sue had run _Daybreak_ into the side of the _TellTale Heart_ , smashing the integrity of both hulls. They were taking on water fast, the sound of the rushing water competing with the roar of the blaze behind us, but Sue was still standing on his boat, two life preservers in his hands, "Here!"

"Just one will do, keep the othah!" Spot shouted back, easily catching the one Sue threw and then hastily putting my arms through it and tightening the straps.

"What about you?" I asked, dully, melancholy and exhaustion settling in my bones as I stared at him. How was it that he was breathtakingly handsome in this moment and why was I focusing on that rather than the horror that was going on in the deck house currently on fire?

His blue eyes were intent on me and only me, "I'm a good swimmer. Now, jump."

His order came as he turned me around and shoved me towards the side of the boat where I looked over, into the inky blackness of the water. It was terrifying to think of jumping into that unknown while not being able to feel anything. "Where's Jack?" I asked, rather than doing what he said, turning my head as I heard a few splashes from the two men on Quentin's boat as they jumped overboard. Abandoning my father to his fate. Just as I was about to do.

Spot's frustration was obvious, "I got him out of there first, he's probably halfway to shore. Now, Eden, JUMP!"

I didn't, I couldn't. I stood there, frozen, as I realized that in doing so meant I was murdering my father by not saving him. As punishment, that dark water would swallow and drown me.

These thoughts were irrational, but fear does not need to be rational to be felt.

Spot's sigh broke through my terror and I felt a moment of disembodiment as I floated above us and watched him pick me up and toss me over before diving in after me. The flotation device kept my head from going under and Spot came up beside me a second later, looping his arm through the jacket, and beginning to swim us away from the wreckage. He towed me along as I stared behind us, at the two boats that were locked together by twisted, broken wood and metal. Hissing noises from the water putting out the fire as they began to go under filled the night air, along with Spot's heavy breaths as he pulled my numb, useless body behind him.

Everyone else was swimming away from the boats, so I was the only one to watch as the two boats, engulfed in flames, succumbed to the flooding and plunge into the dark, stygian depths of the water with only one man on board. I turned my head away from it, away from Spot, and felt the nausea a second before I coughed up the contents in my stomach-which, to be fair, wasn't much.

Once I stopped coughing, I lay there as Spot dragged me through the opaque water and I gazed up at the stars, picking out the constellations I recognized from the book I read, trying to gather my sanity while surrounded by the nebulous sky above and the pitch black river below us.

I felt nothing.

* * *

Spot crawled up the pebbled bank of Flushing Bay, tugging Eden behind him, being careful to catch her as she stumbled over the uneven ground. Jack was there, waiting for them anxiously, and he ran over to help as soon as he spotted them. They were all soaked to the marrow of their bones and gasping with exertion at swimming from the burning boats. Everyone but Eden, who was oddly calm, her face blank and zoned out. He felt a spike of worry for her as the two men from Quentin's boat, Sam, and Sue all reached shore only moments later.

Cupping her cheek with one hand, he let the other trail down her arm as he searched for any harm that could have been done to her. His heart beat slowed as he found nothing out of the norm, and he met her eyes as she croaked out, "Spot." He pushed a strand of wet hair that had been plastered on her face as she told him, "I can't feel anything." Her teeth chattered as she gazed up at him and the sudden bleakness that entered her eyes made her voice sound small and lost. He felt a slight wave of relief at a look other than that disarming blank one.

He could read the concern in her eyes, subtle as it was, and it gave him a bit of hope as he told her, "It's just shock." With more confidence than he actually felt. She needed assurance, comfort, and warmth. Gently, though his arms screamed with tired muscles, he scooped her up as he had after the knife fight. It was his turn to save her.

"Let me take her." Jack said, holding out his arms, "You swam with her."

"I got it. I'm taking her home." Spot told Jack, ignoring his wide open arms and starting to walk away from him.

Eden protested weakly at being picked up, but clung to him as small, light specs began to fall around them. "Is that snow?" She spoke softly, the words vibrating against his chest where she rested her head. Her breath warmed him, gave him the strength to keep going.

He glanced up, the stars bright in a clear sky, not a cloud for miles. Slowly, his gaze turned to the area on the bay where the boats had been, but were now gone, "It's ashes, from the fire." The breeze had blown them to shore, the grey beginning to cover them all, making them look like ghosts in the night. She made a noise like a gag and he pushed away the memory of the flames consuming her father, wondering briefly if she was thinking the same thing.

Sue stepped in front of him, his pale, blue eyes on Eden. In a manner similar to Spot's, he cupped her cheeks and his gaze searched her face. She shook her head, forcing him to drop his hands and then she turned away to bury her face into Spot's neck. The two men shared a look of mirrored concern. Spot unconsciously tightened his arms around Eden as she shuddered in his arms. She needed to get out of these clothes, needed to deal with her physical needs before jumping into the emotional aspects this evening brought.

"I gotta get her home." He told Sue, who nodded, not saying a word. He knew Spot would keep him updated by way of bird. Spot knew he'd be at her door first thing in the morning.

He passed Quentin's men and Sam, who was talking to one of them, "I've saved ya for the last time, old man." Sam spat to one of them, a man he shared the shape of his nose and mouth with, "Get outta here before the bulls catch ya." Both of Quentin's men didn't need to be told twice, they were running off before Sam had even finished. Sam turned away from them, his eyes catching the warehouse some distance away, which was clearly being raided, and a slight, smug smile tugged at his lips. Clapping Jack on the back, Sam offered, "You can stay at my place so you'll be close ta her."

Spot ignored them, too intent on getting her back to her apartment, but he was aware of their steps just behind him as he walked on tired legs, trying not to think of everything that ached and hurt him. He tried to think of something that he could say to ease Eden just a touch and then he remembered something he'd just read. "'Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.'" He quoted to her, his voice a whisper so only she could hear him.

Eden, shaking in his arms, lifted her head and gazed up at him as the smallest sparkle appeared in her eyes, "The Picture of Dorian Gray." She said, her voice soft. He nodded, but couldn't think of anything else to say and silence descended between them once more. A while later, just as her apartment came into view, she lifted her head once more and gazed up at him with green eyes darker than he'd ever seen them, "Spot?"

"Yes, Eden?" He answered, wondering at the strange note in her voice.

She paused, like she always did when picking out the right words and it made him ache with nostalgia at the days before this mess, when it was just the two of them. And then she spoke, and it scattered the nostalgia away as she murmured, "I love you."

Spot Conlon realized, walking along the sidewalk, in the middle of the night with a girl who was numb cradled in his arms, that he couldn't remember a time when anyone had said those words to him. Not even from the vague memories he held of his mother. He couldn't remember ever feeling the desire to say them before this moment, either, but suddenly knew he had to say them because…because they were true. "I love you, too." He said, just a tad gruffly, his throat feeling just a little tight as he kissed her forehead and continued to trudge towards her apartment. She pressed her face once more into his neck and sighed with relief.

And even though the night had felt like the longest one of his life, he knew he'd do it a million times over if it meant she'd say those words every time.

 **A/N: Sooo, because everyone left amazing reviews and because my muse for this story wouldn't leave me alone, I'm updating extra quick! Thank you so much to my guest reviewer, AmericanHoney12, KitAuralee, and my lovely friend WordyAF for reviewing! I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


	29. Chapter 29

**Numb**

 **Summary:** **RE-WRITE. Eden Sullivan was born with an inability to feel. She refers to her problem as Numb and she's lived her whole life in a state of unfeeling. Since she can remember she's felt disconnected, the failure of her sense of touch keeping her from emotionally connecting with others as well. Until she cuts a deal with the one and only Spot Conlon.**

I felt nothing. Not when Spot was pulling me through the water, not when both him and Sue touched my face. Nothing. I didn't really even feel any emotions, as thought my numbness had affected them as well. Except for when he quoted my favorite book to me, and when I thought about everything he'd done for me, did I feel a warm tingling in my gut. The words 'I love you' were out before I could stop them, but he replied before I could panic at giving too much of myself away.

Hoot was waiting for us out front of my apartment building, his gray eyes anxious as he moved from foot to foot, "Is Hummin'bird gonna be awright?" His concern and obvious affection for me was a punch to the gut as I remembered how I'd sent him away the other night. Still, he was worried about me.

"Yeah, go let Spade know she's fine and to call the birds back. I'll be back latah. Gotta see to her." Spot commanded, his voice just above a whisper since it was late.

"I'll be alright, we'll go to the library soon." I told him as Spot moved passed him and I managed to watch as my hand snaked out to pat him on the head. My words and head pat made him brighten a little bit before going to carry out Spot's orders.

As he carried me up the stairs to my apartment, I still felt nothing and I prayed that he was right, that this was simply shock at the emotional toll the night had taken on me. When we got to my door, he set me down so that I could pull my key out, briefly reflecting that I was lucky I hadn't lost it, and I felt a wash of relief as the comfort of the familiar smells and sounds of being home invaded my other senses. Our eyes were used to the darkness so, I didn't bother to light one of the oil lamps and the thought of doing so caused fresh memories to plague my mind and I shook them away.

"Change outta the wet clothes." Spot ordered, pushing me inside and waving to Sam and Jack, shutting the door in their face. I moved slowly, as if my muscles were stiff, to the little area in the corner where I had hung up an old curtain that had been in my apartment when I moved in. I grabbed a clean nightgown before slipping behind it, changing without really thinking of what I was doing. As I came out from behind it, I stopped to rifle through my dresser for some dry clothes for Spot.

"Might be a bit small." I murmured, handing him the shirt and trousers.

He shrugged, the exhaustion plain on his face, "I can just change when I get back ta the lodging house." He replied, "Just wanted to make sure you would be awright."

I hadn't expected him to leave, so his words surprised me and before I could stop them, my question tumbled out, "Stay with me?" I was too scared to hear his rejection, turning away from him before he could say no and padding over to my mattress. When his silence stretched on, I looked over at him.

Spot stood stock still, his eyes more of dark blue/gray of the ocean when a storm is about to roll in than the light blue they usually were. Every muscle was tense, as though he couldn't believe he heard me right. "Are you sure?" He asked, hesitantly. The slight vulnerability there melted my insides.

"Yes." I replied, my eyes meeting his as he searched them for something.

Without answering me, he turned to step behind the curtain and change into the clothes I handed to him, silent through it all. When he came out, I felt a glimmer of humor flit through me as I noticed the few inches of leg showing from the too-short trousers. The shirt seemed to fit well enough, though.

His face was oddly expressionless as he came over to the mattress and pressed a hand to my arm, feeling how cold my skin was. "Crawl undah the blankets." I rolled my eyes at his bossiness, but did as he told me and felt a thrill shoot up my spine and flutters in my stomach as he got in beside me. I lamented the fact that I could only view, not feel, as he wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my frigid skin to generate warmth.

"Don't let me go." I whispered to him, as he used his body heat to warm me up. I felt exhaustion start to blur the edges of my consciousness and I closed my eyes, silently hoping that feeling would come back now that I was off that boat and away from the whole, sordid mess.

"Wasn't gonna." He murmured. I might have dreamed him adding, softly, "Not aftah I almost lost ya tanight."

I woke up later as thrills of feeling began to come back. I opened my eyes and judged it to be late morning from the light that streamed through the window. At first, it was just tingles over the areas where Spot's hands were, one tangled in my hair, cupping my head, the other under my shirt, pressed against my lower back, keeping my body flush against his. Slowly, feeling spread throughout my entire being and it was more overwhelming than I ever remembered it before. Spot's legs were interlaced with mine, my head in the crook of his neck. He was pressing my body to his as though he was scared I'd slip away, his arms tight and protective.

I moved restlessly, suddenly our closeness was not enough now that I could feel. I wanted to feel more. "Spot." I whispered, pressing closer, my body wanting to be petted and rubbed in a way that I was too unfamiliar about to voice.

He murmured intelligibly, but didn't wake. Not until I pulled my head out from the hollow of his throat and press my lips to his. He groaned, immediately responding, his hands beginning to caress my skin, sending tiny shocks of electricity through me. I needed more, though, and I pressed him back onto the mattress and, in a very unladylike manner, climbed atop him. But, I couldn't help it, the feelings were overwhelming every logical thought in my brain. All I could think about was the need to be touched.

"Eden. Wha…" Spot pulled his mouth from mine, trying to ask me what was going on.

"Touch me." I murmured, right before silencing him with my mouth. He made a sound low in his throat and his hand snaked up my back, cupping the back of my head and gripping my hair to tilt my head so he could taste me better. I all but purred when his other hand slid along my leg, up to my thigh where my nightgown was bunched.

I let out a moan as his mouth devoured mine, my hands clawing to open his shirt, to feel the smooth, hard muscles of his chest. I managed to open the button-down shirt when he surprised me by taking control and flipping me beneath him. Gasping in surprise, I pressed my body up to his, a red-hot flush blossoming over my entire body as lava pooled below my stomach. Every cell in my body screamed for Spot's rough, calloused hands to touch every part of me. This was lust at a devastating level.

Suddenly, he was scrambling off me, coldness replacing the heat of him and it was as if he'd taken my soul with him. I was surprised by the cry of alarm and the ring of immense sorrow that came from my lips as he crossed the room to lean against the wall, the soft, late morning light streaming through the window, "Eden, what the hell?" He asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he closed his eyes and tried to gather his self-control.

I sat up, watching him, the flush still hot on my skin, my own quick breathing matching his as I tried to gather my own control. But, I truly did not want to, not when he was standing there with his shirt open, his muscles twitching and inviting me to touch. "I-I woke up and I could feel…it was…" I let out a large breath as my body shook at the memory of his hands everywhere, "Overwhelming." It was still overwhelming. I knew if he stepped close enough to me, I'd reach out and pull him back on this bed. The thought of getting him back onto this mattress, of feeling pleasure until I couldn't think was too enticing. I needed this.

I needed him.

"I need you, Spot." The words were out as I thought them.

He opened his eyes, the normally light, silvery blue was now four shades darker and I could see he wanted me, too. "I…" He shook his head, "No, ya been through a terrible ordeal. I-I can't take advantage." He was trying to rationalize, to protect me from what I wanted, but I didn't want his protection. I wanted his touch.

Before, I could think logically, I was off the bed and stalking across the room towards him and he froze, his entire body humming and tense. "Nothing serious." I murmured lowly, knowing in my heart of hearts I wasn't ready for the heavy breathing sports I heard at night from the married couples in the building, "I just need you to touch me. I can feel again and it physically hurts _not_ to have you touching me." A slight whimper followed my words and I could see that it did the trick.

Spot Conlon caved, his shoulders slumping with defeat as he reached out and pulled me to him. I sighed in pleasure as he skimmed his hands under my nightgown, touching the curves of my waist and sliding up to caress my ribs and cup my breasts. He watched me with dark, reverent eyes as I leaned my head back and shivered at the contact. I could hear his heartbeat speed up as I gazed into his eyes, his eye lids half closing as he looked at me with such desire that I felt sparks like electricity shoot erratically between us.

My exposed neck tempted his lips and I pressed against him hard when I felt them touch a sensitive spot below my ear and trail down to the base. "Dominic." I moaned his named, his real name, and I think it undid him because the moment it left my lips he picked me up by cupping my rear end. I didn't know touching me there could feel so good, but it did and it felt even better to wrap my legs around his waist as he walked us back to the bed, collapsing on top of me rather than let me go for a second.

He let my hands rove over him, his own smoothing over my skin, cupping and teasing areas that made me gasp and moan. I felt his desire for me press against my thigh and I was almost about to tell him I'd changed my mind when a series of raps on my door broke us apart and caused him to freeze above me.

"Who is it?" He called out.

"Jack and Sue." Jack's voice was a bucket of frigid reality being dumped on us and Spot closed his eyes and sighed.

"Hang on!" He called out, opening his eyes and hurriedly pulling away to button up his shirt before pulling me to my feet and fixing my clothes and smoothing my hair. Once he was satisfied with my appearance, he stepped back, "Go change, I'll get the door."

I glanced down at the nightgown I was in, cotton soft and worn from how long I'd had it. So long, in fact, that it was a tad short. I nodded, figuring he was right, and grabbed a proper dress before slipping behind the curtain. As I changed, I realized that I could still feel even though he was across the apartment.

I listened as he opened the door and heard Jack's unhappy voice say, "What are you still doing here?" I stepped out, fully clothed, and Jack immediately crossed the apartment to come check me over. If he noticed my lips, red and swollen from kissing, he didn't say anything, only eyeballed me for any noticeable injuries.

"I asked him to stay." I told Jack, letting him lift my left hand to check for burns, "I'm fine, Jack."

"You have a bruise here and here." He said, touching my cheek and eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes, "From you shoving me to the floor."

"Ya were covered in kerosene!" Jack argued, lifting the sleeve on my arm to view the hand shaped bruise my father left me with.

"Kerosene?! Why was she covered in kerosene?" Spot butted in, anger darkening his face as he looked to Jack, as though my brother had something to do with it.

Jack mimicked my eye roll, "She was the one makin' plans to have newsies sell drugs with Q."

Two pairs of blue eyes turned their gaze on me at this statement. Feeling cornered, I folded my arms against my chest and glared at them, "I had a plan!" I told them, "Jack wasn't in on it."

"Your plan was to pour kerosene on yourself?" Sue finally spoke up, his dry deadpanned words causing me to chuckle.

"No, that was Quentin's plan. My plan was to gain his trust long enough to get off the boat." I turned narrowed eyes on Jack, "That means making up crazy plans to work with him. Not argue the entire time so that he wants to kill you."

Jack had no comebacks to my logic and instead rolled his eyes once more and moved to sit at the table over by the kitchen. "So, how about some breakfast?" He asked, nonchalantly, stretching his legs out and looking at the rest of us. Spot and I exchanged a look of irritation for a moment, the act itself causing me smile.

"Sit down." I waved to the table, "I think I have eggs I can cook up."

Spot stepped towards me, placing a hand on my lower back. "Let me help ya." He offered, softly. Concern shown in his eyes, but I ignored it as that small touch alone both soothed my need to be touched and ignited my passion all over again. Half of me cursed the interruption and half of me felt gratitude. Any longer and I was afraid I might have gone too far. As curious as I was about the lust aspect, I knew enough about sex to know Spot and I weren't ready to attempt it-or deal with the potential consequences of it.

I tried to ignore the thought that I could pass on my numbness, but instead it brought to light something I should have asked my father. Not that there wasn't a number of things I should have asked him-but, in the short, chaotic time I had with him I thought it best to work on solutions of getting away, not sitting down to discuss our family tree. "Sue?" I asked, "You knew our father well. Could he have been related to someone like…like me?"

They all understood what I was asking as I got out the cast iron skillet and Spot pulled out the eggs. I also reached for the coffee pot I used on the days I had off, in the mornings when I didn't have to rush anywhere and could enjoy a cup of the bitter brew while looking out my window at the people on the streets below.

Sue didn't answer right away, as I suspected he wouldn't. While I waited, I prepped the coffee pot and set it on the woodfire stove to brew. I brought down plates for all of us, setting them out on the table before returning to where Spot was scrambling the eggs. He reached out and slid his hand down my arm before intertwining our fingers and I laid my head on his shoulder, basking for a second in the pure feel of him.

"Quentin's mothah was a…strange woman." Sue's voice pulled me from my thoughts of the wonderfulness of Spot's touch and I turned back to where he sat beside Jack meeting his cornflower blue eyes, "I only met her twice befoah she died and I know very little because Quentin hated ta talk about her." He paused as he thought how to tell her story best, "She came ovah from England. Had a thick, cockney accent that Quentin hated. She was…was a prostitute." He looked sorry he had to call her that, "I think…given her situation, it was the easiest profession foah her. Had the lowest cost ta give and made bettah money than anythin' else."

I turned away from his words, a flash of the man who had assaulted me when I was eight in the alley while I slept…I swallowed away the bile. My mind imagining being stuck forever in my numb state, letting men abuse my body for a few bucks here and there…Imagining getting pregnant and having a child, never feeling a thing. No wonder Quentin was crazy. His mother didn't have the connection to him, not when she was numb with no link to anyone or anything. How could you love a child who you could not feel inside you? Much less raise one into a well-adjusted member of society?

What if he had been around when I was born? Saw the signs of my lack of feeling and helped raise me, a burning hatred for a mother that could never love him tinging every thought and feeling for his own daughter? Would I have even survived childhood? As bad as I had it, it could have been so much worse…

Spot wrapped his arms around me, as though he could sense what about Sue's story bothered me. "That's how he knew." I mumbled against his chest.

He brushed back my hair, "He knew?" He asked, concern furrowing his brow.

I pulled away from him to save the eggs before they could get overcooked. Pulling the skillet off the stove, I moved to dish the food out on everyone's plate. "He knew. That's why he had me pour kerosene on my hand." A dark look passed over Spot's face, and I knew if my father wasn't dead now, that nothing would have kept him from Spot's wrath. I set the skillet on the stove and wrapped my arms around him, "But, I'm fine. I promise."

Jack had been quiet but lifted his head up, a mouth full of eggs as he groused, "Why'd he bothah havin' kids?"

We all looked to Sue, who chewed his eggs thoughtfully, "He always said he had a storm inside him, but when he was with Birdie, that was his nickname for Liz, she calmed the tempest. His love for her was the definition of madness. Liz was blindsided by his charm and adoration for a long time." His blue eyes held a depth of melancholy that I could see cut down to his soul. I ached for him. For my mother. Even for my father.

But, mostly I ached for all of us.

Spot's arms wrapped around mine where they were still clasped around his mid-section, and he squeezed them a little too tightly. I squeezed him back, for the first time realizing that so much can be said between two people with just a few touches. It wasn't something I had ever known before, had never experienced for myself that I could recall, and it only made my love for him grow even more.

Perhaps, one day, our bond would be so strong that his mere existence would make me feel. I didn't know if that was possible, but it gave me hope.

* * *

Spot tried not to compare himself to Quentin. But, Sue's words struck a strong cord within him. Eden's presence was always enough to settle him, to soothe him, unless of course she was in danger. Was his love for her madness? It didn't feel like it. It felt like sanity, like coming home after months away, like having a place of solitude amid the crazy world around him. It was paradise.

He pulled out a chair and made Eden sit and eat her food while Jack filled them in on what went on aboard Q's boat. He scowled at Eden's brashness, her willingness to light her hand on fire to gain her father's trust, but silently he marveled at her. If he'd been on the boat instead of Jack, he would have known she was lying. She didn't do it often, but she could if she was protecting herself. Or her brother.

After Jack finished, Spot told them his side of things, on seeing them exit the back of the warehouse and how he had sent a bird to Sue earlier in the day. That information made Eden turn accusing eyes on him, "You should have told me!"

"There wasn't time. You and Jack were hellbent on getting' in and outta there." He informed her.

She huffed, but didn't seem to want to argue, "Where's Sam now?" She asked Jack.

Jack was eating all of the left-over eggs and he didn't look surprised by her question, "He went ta Queens ta check on Slips and let her know everything was fine with you. I think he also wanted ta see what was left of that warehouse after the bulls raided it."

Eden nodded beginning to look as though she was going to fall asleep on her plate. "Alright, we can catch up on the rest latah. She needs rest." Spot made sure the note in his voice was final and he glared at Jack as the Cowboy mumbled about Spot staying and he rose to shoo them out of the apartment.

"I'll be back." Jack threatened, "No funny business, Conlon."

Spot rolled his eyes, like Jack could stop any of it...although, technically he already had. Shaking his head, he sighed as he shut the door behind the two men and turned back to see Eden collecting the plates and mugs. "I got that, go lay down." He told her, taking the plates from her hands. He was worried that she hadn't shown any signs of grief or trauma. It wasn't good to keep it all bottled up, he knew that because it was exactly what he tended to do.

"I'm not so tired I can't clean up." She told him, but he read the exhaustion on her face and in the way she moved slowly.

Gently, he pushed her towards the mattress, "Go rest. Ya need it."

Half-grudgingly, she listened. Her footfalls dragged across the wooden floor and he watched as she collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to change back into the nightgown or pull the blankets over herself. Sighing, he placed the plates in the kitchen sink and wiped down the table before turning to do the dishes. He busied himself with inane cleaning, letting it strangely relax him.

Until her crying started.

At first, the sounds were soft, deep breaths which slowly grew into heart-wrenching sobs. He hurried over as she curled into the fetal position, everything from the day before collapsing around her. Pushing her gently over, he pulled the blankets over them and fit his body to curve around her back, to envelope her in his arms. To hold her together while she fell apart. Stroking her hair, he murmured tender words of comfort until she was all cried out and exhaustion took over once more.

For a long time, he laid there quietly just holding her. A peacefulness he never knew he lacked settling over them, just the sound of their mingling breathing, their heartbeats thumping steadily, in tandem. He reflected that he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when she became a part of him, an essential, necessary, vitally important part of him. A limb. No, an organ. His very heart. She had seeped into his soul slowly, effortlessly. It should be terrifying to imagine, but how could he be scared when it felt as right as breathing?

She shifted in his arms, turning over and blinking up at his with bleary, emerald green eyes. "Thank you." Her murmur was husky with sleep.

"For what?" He whispered.

Sighing, she snuggled up against him, no space between their bodies. His Eden did not want space between them at all. "For everything." She kept her eyes clothes as she told him, "I never grieved for my mother, or for Jack leaving me, or for being taken from my home at four years old…or for winding up on the streets." Finally, she opened her eyes and he could see they still shimmered with tears, "But, because of you, I can do all of that and grieve for my father. You've given a ghost girl a line to the world of the living. Resurrected me from the dead. Your patience, protection, and love. It's too much for one person to do for another."

"No, it's not too much." He told her, a tad forcefully, "You'd do the same foah me. Ya _have_." He cupped her cheek and met her eyes so she saw the truth of it, "I spent so long thinkin' I don't need nothin' from no one. Kept every little thing bottled up tight and I didn't say anythin' when it got to be too much. And it did. A lot…but, I'm a street kid so I just got inta some fights, bribed people foah favors, and walked away when they tried ta look too closely. But, you…you were somethin' else. Patient and honest, you were like one a them…them lion tamah's at those travelin' circuses."

He watched her smile as she nodded that she understood and then he sighed, "Ya just let me be me and that was enough. The broody, handsome leadah." His description brought a giggle out of her and he smiled, "As well as just the street kid that grew up all alone. You, Eden Sullivan, let me be both Dorian and his painting. Ya healed the two parts of me that didn't wanna coexist…because they didn't know they could. With you, they can."

She leaned up to kiss him, "I did all that?" She asked, when she pulled back, "I didn't even know it."

"Well, like I said. All bottled up." He shrugged, kissed her nose, "I love you."

Her face was alight with happiness at his words, "I love _you_."

 **A/N: So, these two lovesick fools decided to ramble this chapter on for 9 pages. Even though I told them they'll get an epilogue. Soooo, one more chapter, ya'll! Thank you, loves, kisses, and cookies to all of you who reviewed: Wordy AF, my guest reviewer, Kit Auralee, AmericanHoney12, and coveredinbees! You guys are the best a gal can ask for! Drop me a review with reactions!**

 **Truly,**

 **Joker is Poker with a J~**


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